


change of heart

by 2dsgirl



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Mystic Messenger AU, V (Mystic Messenger)'s Real Name, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsgirl/pseuds/2dsgirl
Summary: "...Goodbye now, (y/n)." And with that I pushed the door open and swung my legs out into the cold air. I handed the cab driver my money, but the girl gently pushed my hand away before he could grab it. She pulled out a roll of bills from her pocket, peeling off a few and handing it to the driver, an obvious smirk on her lips."It's on me this time," she smiled up at me from where I stood, her eyes seemingly sparkling, my mouth hanging open a bit in shock."Just say this isn't the last time I get to meet the absolutely irreplaceable Jumin Han."





	1. 01

I signed the last document needing my approval for the day and dropped my pen on the desk, sighing as I held my head in my hands. I rubbed my eyes for a moment before I heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called, my voice sounding exhausted even to my own ears.

"Mr. Han," it was Jaehee. She looked concerned as she analyzed my expression, walking towards my desk. "I'm surprised you're still here. It's nearly midnight."

"There's a lot of work to be done this time of year," I answered. "Father takes as much time off as he wants during the holidays but I'd lose my head if I dared take a moment off."

Her expression read 'Which means I do not get a moment off' but she stayed quiet, a strained smile on her lips as she gently placed a pile of envelopes on my desk.

"These all need to go out by the day after tomorrow," she said, turning away as she exited my office. She stood in the doorway for a moment though, as if she was contemplating something.

"Why don't you go home for the night though, Mr. Han? We can handle everything tomorrow and I'm sure Driver Kim is tired waiting too."

Her thoughtfulness managed to coax a small smile from me as I stood from my chair, stretching my arms above my head.

"Only if you head home now too. I will take care of any grief if things are a bit late for tomorrow." Her eyes widened, but she left no time for me to change my mind.

"Thank you, Mr. Han." She left with a small nod. I gathered my things in my briefcase and slung my coat over my arm. It was cold outside but the C&R building was well heated, so I waited until I was in the lobby to put on my coat. I called Driver Kim and waited as the dial tone rang and rang until I was brought to his voicemail box. I hung up without leaving a message and looked up at the large clock in the lobby; five minutes past one am. He was only on call until one so he must have gone home. I took a deep breath before stepping outside into the cold; the wind immediately whipped at my face, painful against my skin. I walked down the street until I reached a more bustling area of the city. It was Friday, technically Saturday now, so it was still fairly lively, many cars and cabs rushing by. I took my place on an especially busy intersection and waited for an empty cab to pass. I hailed the first one I saw but it continued on; it wasn't until four taxis later that I actually opened the door, but that too was interrupted.

"Wait!" A girl stopped me from shutting the door, looking down at me where I sat in the back seat. "Please, let me in. I've been waiting for almost an hour and my hands are just about to freeze off."

I stared at her for a long moment. Her nose and cheeks were flushed a deep rose, her lips chapped, her hair a mess from the wind. I couldn't decide if I should let her in since I didn't want to have to pay for some stranger to go home but a very small part of me felt guilty if I left her to freeze.

"Let's go, people," the cab driver called. I impulsively scooted over in the backseat; her face lit up as she sat down next to me, shutting the door behind her.

"Thank you so much," she breathed. "Thank you so, so much. A friend of mine was supposed to pick me up but she couldn't make it and I couldn't get a cab to stop for my life."

I simply nodded and gave a curt smile. I told the driver my address without asking where the stranger next to me was headed, hoping I could avoid any uncomfortable situations. There was a quiet that settled for a few moments, the heat pouring from the vents the only sound.

"I'm (y/n), by the way," she said, holding her ungloved hand out. I shook her hand (I was taught to always shake someone's hand when they offered it) and could feel the chill even through my gloves.

"Jumin Han," I replied. "Your hands are very cold."

She gave a short laugh, her eyes bright under the lights rushing past us. I spent a long moment taking in her presence; she was dressed in a coat that was too thin for the season, and her heels weren't appropriate if it were to snow as the weather channel had been calling for all week. I wondered why she was out in the city so late at night so unprepared.

"I didn't expect to get caught waiting outside tonight," she answered. "You know how when you have everything planned to go perfect and life just decides that's not gonna happen?"

"No." I answered. She laughed again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You're lucky then I guess,"

"I don't believe in luck," I replied. "Anything bad that happens can be traced back to a choice you made."

"Wow," she smiled at me, which was surprising since I knew I wasn't being particularly friendly. "You're very interesting, Jumin Han. I like you."

"We just met," I answered, my eyebrows creasing together. "How can you already decide whether you like me or not?"

"I can just feel it," she smiled again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

"What brings you to this taxi cab at one o'clock in the morning?"

"I could ask you the same question," I replied, a small smirk playing on my lips.

"Well I can tell by how you're dressed and the way you carry yourself that you're not used to being out and about in the city," she leaned in and dropped her voice down. "Plus you haven't even noticed that the driver is practically going in circles to hike up your bill once we reach your destination."

"What?" I exclaimed, looking out the window. She was right- we had just driven past the intersection I had gotten in at. She laughed as she leaned back in the black leather seat.

"So I'll ask again; What brings Jumin Han to this taxi cab at nearly one-thirty in the morning on this fateful December night?"

I found myself looking at her in confusion. It caught me off guard that she didn't know who I was, especially after I introduced myself. What caught me even more off guard was that I was interested in knowing who she was.

"My driver wasn't on call by the time I finished my work for today, if you must know."

"Oh, a driver," she chuckled. "How fancy. You must be awfully important if someone will spend all day waiting to take you where you need to go."

"He gets paid for his time," I answered, unfazed by her attitude. "And I am important. My father's company is nearly global and would most likely fall apart if I wasn't there."

She smiled at me as her stare narrowed in my direction, a look of curiosity glinting in her eyes. I stared back.

"What?" I asked, a little off put by her behavior.

"You have a funny sense of importance. I'd love to see your reaction if you just dropped off the Earth for a moment and returned to see that you're as replaceable as anybody else. As replaceable as that man begging for money on that corner," she pointed out the window towards a man dressed in weathered and patched up clothes, holding a cardboard sign that I couldn't read from the cab. "As replaceable as me, even."

The driver approached my penthouse and I rested my briefcase on my lap before I turned to face the woman.

"You do not know me, which is interesting because most people would have spent the entire cab ride taking photos of me if they were in your shoes. I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste your energy pretending to see through a front I'm not even putting up. Goodbye now, (y/n)." And with that I pushed the door open and swung my legs out into the cold air. I handed the cab driver my money, but the girl gently pushed my hand away before he could grab it. She pulled out a roll of bills from her pocket, peeling off a few and handing them to the driver, an obvious smirk on her lips.

"It's on me this time," she smiled up at me from where I stood, her eyes seemingly sparkling, my mouth hanging open a bit in shock.

"Just say this isn't the last time I get to meet the absolutely irreplaceable Jumin Han." She sung the last words of her sentence, taking special care to emphasize my name.

I could only manage a short nod before closing the car door and quickly heading inside the penthouse, the heat of the front lobby a relief from the chill of the wind outside. Despite the bitter cold though, I could feel my palms sweating in my gloves and a slight heat burning from my cheeks as I entered the elevator to my suite.

Once inside I stripped out of my work clothes into a warm pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, pulling my blankets up to my chin once I climbed into my bed. Elizabeth climbed up next to me, nudging the covers to get underneath. I pet her as she purred next to me, her eyes peacefully shut.

"Elizabeth," I said quietly. "You are the only woman I've ever met who makes any sense. You never confuse or try to outsmart me." She pushed her head into my the palm of my hand, licking me the tiniest bit as I continued to pet her.

"I wish all women were as simple as you. Then I wouldn't be laying here with my mind stuck on a complete stranger..." she quickly fell asleep, her purrs fading into even, slow breaths. I nuzzled in closer to her, placing a kiss on her soft, white fur before resting my head in my pillow and letting sleep take me under.


	2. 02

A few weeks passed, the days growing colder as the snow banks grew taller. Soon enough Christmas came around, and I made the trip out to my father's home in the country the night before for the holiday. His mansion made my penthouse seem like a cottage, it's massive size reflective of his wealth. I wasn't one to talk since I certainly didn't hide my own success; my father just always seemed to be more inclined to show off than to not.

I rang the doorbell with my single suitcase in hand- I didn't plan on staying for any longer than I had to. My father opened the large front door, the smell of food and booze wafting out of his home.

"Son!" He exclaimed, stumbling a bit as he pulled me into his embrace.

"Father," I hugged him back, almost nauseated by the smell of liquor on his breath.

"I'm so happy you could make it," he smiled. "How long has it been since we've spent Christmas together with the family? At least five years?"

"It's been eight," I smiled as my gaze drifted to the woman who patiently stood behind my father. She was dressed extravagantly, cleavage adorned by sparkling jewelery, her hips hugged tightly by a red dress. I gave her a curt nod, waiting to be introduced.

-

I woke up the next morning in my father's guest bedroom, hungover from copious amounts of imported red wine. I rolled over on my side, aimlessly searching for my phone on the nightstand where I vaguely remembered placing it last night. I held it close to me as I went through the notifications, strategically ignoring my work emails as well as the missed calls from Assistant Kang. I logged onto the R.F.A. messenger to see both Zen and V were online.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

ZEN: It's the worst being alone on christmas.... everyone is so lovey dovey and here I am, the most handsome person probably ever, eating take out by myself. This should be a crime

V: You should be thankful for all the things you do have. Merry Christmas, Jumin.

Jumin Han: Thank you, V. You as well.

ZEN: How can I be thankful when I know trustfund kid is eating his weight in gourmet food and getting thousands of dollars in presents from his dad?!!

Jumin Han: This is actually the first Christmas I haven't worked in eight years.

V: Eight years? Are you at your father's home now?

Jumin Han: Yes. I just woke up.

ZEN: Just woke up? It's almost one in the afternoon dude

V: I'm sure him and his father enjoyed more than their fair share of wine last night. Give him a break.

ZEN: Am I supposed to feel bad for him or something?

Jumin Han: Don't feel bad for me. I make enough money every holiday I work to pay your rent for a year.

ZEN: SERIOUSLY

ZEN: THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

Jumin Han: And what is that?

ZEN: You act so smug about all your money but in reality I have it better than you. At least I have an actual chance of finding a girlfriend someday.

Jumin Han: Are you implying I could never meet a woman?

ZEN: yes

V: Zen has a point. You should maybe consider looking into dating.

V: You're closer to thirty now than anything.

Jumin Han: I don't need a woman, but I'll have you know I did meet a woman a few weeks ago.

ZEN: WHAT

ZEN: ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Jumin Han: No. I met her in a taxi cab and she said I was interesting.

V: Really? Did you get her phone number?

Jumin Han: No.

ZEN: When she said interesting she was probably just trying to be polite about how weird you are. I bet you just talked about that fur ball the whole ride.

Jumin Han: I didn't mention Elizabeth 3rd once. I told her her hands were cold and then she payed for the cab ride and said she wanted to meet again.

ZEN: That's it. I'm officially giving up.

V: I'm sorry, I have to leave now. Jumin, if you genuinely are interesting in this girl do yourself a favor and go on a proper date with her. I'll talk to you all again. Goodbye.

V has left the chatroom.

ZEN: I can't believe a girl actually wanted to see you again. I can't believe you found a girl before me.

Jumin Han: I'm honestly as surprised as you. I have to leave now too. My father and his flavor of the week are waiting for me.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

I put my phone down and sighed, wondering exactly how I was supposed to find (y/n) again. My interest in her wasn't romantic; if anything it was curiosity. I found myself many times since we met thinking about her, mostly just about why she had been so oddly kind to me despite my cold demeanor. I shook her out of my head though, pulling myself out of bed and into day clothes. I tried to brush out my hair in front of the bathroom vanity but it curled out despite my every effort. I settled on brushing my teeth and spraying my father's most expensive cologne before I headed downstairs.

"Good morning, Jumin," My father's girlfriend who's name I didn't bother to remember greeted me, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, finding my way to a coffee pot, pouring myself a cup.

"There's cream in the fridge and sugar in the second cabinet to the left," she called.

"No thank you," I said. "I drink it black." I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from her, curling my legs underneath me.

"Just like your father." She smiled, taking a sip of her drink. By the way her hair was lazily tied back and how she was dressed in much less extravagant clothing, I figured she had recently woken up as well.

"Where is he?"

"Oh, he just went to get the mail. He should be back any moment now."

With that the front door opened, my father smiling when he made eye contact with his girlfriend. He gave me a nod as he crossed the kitchen and grabbed a mug sitting on the counter before joining us on the couch.

"Good morning, son," he said as he wrapped his arm around the woman. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's so nice to come into my home and see you. It's been so long since we haven't had to talk about the company."

"Yes," I answered, although I planned on taking my leave within the next few hours. "It's nice to relax after working so much the last few weeks."

He smiled at me for a moment, stroking his girlfriend's hair gently, an almost unconscious gesture.

"Are you still living alone in that penthouse, Jumin?" As soon as the words fell from his lips I knew where the conversation was headed.

"No. I live with Elizabeth 3rd."

"The cat doesn't count." He said with a flat expression, his girlfriend stifling a giggle.

"Then by your standards, yes. I am living alone." He sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

"Son," he began. "At this point I just want to see you happy. I know we've had issues with arrangements I have tried to make for you and I understand that isn't what you want. But you can't grow old in that hundred story penthouse with just a cat by your side as you work yourself to death."

I remained silent as I remembered his last girlfriend, Glam Choi and her 'student' my father desperately tried to marry me off to. It had been almost a year since then.

"I met a woman." I stated. My father's eyes lit up, almost jumping off of the couch.

"What? Are you trying to make a joke, Jumin?"

"No. I met her in a taxi cab and she said she wants to meet again. I don't know how to contact her though."

"How romantic," his girlfriend cooed. "Two strangers who fall in love at first sight."

"I am not in love with her," I clarified. "But I am interested in meeting with her again."

"Anything," my father spoke, his voice low. "Anything you need, tell me and it's yours. I want to see you happy, son."

I nodded, a slight wave of embarrassment washing over me. We chatted on the couch a bit longer, my father poking and prodding at my every button, sure to remind me of all the joys of being in love. Even simple gestures like the grazing of her shoulder with his thumb, or the way she would squeeze his hand in hers felt like something intimate, something private that I shouldn't be seeing. I was used to seeing women practically fondle my father in front of me but something was different about this woman; her face was clean, not made up like the others, and despite her grandeur last night she seemed so much more natural cradled in my father's arm in the afternoon light peeking through the shades. I felt distant, as if I wasn't really a part of the moment, just a bystander in passing.

Eventually my father called down his chef and we ate together on the heated porch. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, and I remembered it was in fact Christmas. My gift for my father was still in my suitcase upstairs and I found myself wanting to get the whole ordeal over with and return home.

"Father," I spoke as I placed my plate on the gold edged table in front of us. "I've brought a gift for you. I'll go grab it from upstairs." I sat up but before I could exit my father interrupted.

"Jumin, wait," he said. "I'd like to give you my gift first. A moment, dear." He stood from the chair, leaving his girlfriend behind as I followed him into his office. He let me enter first and closed the large, mahogany door behind us, the lock clicking before he crossed the room. He approached his desk, and I could tell he was taking his time to build up some sort of moment. My mind went on overdrive trying to guess what he was giving me that he felt his beloved girlfriend couldn't know. He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a small, black box. I stepped over to him and looked into his eyes.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

He placed the box in my hands and I flipped open the lid. Inside was a ring; a genuine gold ring adorned with many jewels, the biggest one a diamond, front and center. I was confused as I examined it until I noticed the smaller stones framing the diamond- moonstones.

"Is this my mother's?" I said, unable to hide the disgust in my voice.

"Yes, Jumin. Many, many years ago I proposed to your mother with that very ring. I want you to propose to the woman you fall in love with someday with that." He was smiling, as if it wasn't an absolutely outrageous gesture.

"You're kidding me, right? You want me to propose to a woman with that ring?" I snorted, putting the box on his desk.

"What do you mean by that ring?" He challenged. A trigger had been set off by the very notion of the gift, and now that my father was standing before me as if my mother hadn't tried to pawn me off to keep her marriage and wealth in tact and then proceeded to literally kill herself over it, I was outraged.

"I will not give any woman a ring that was once soaked with my own mother's blood, and if you think washing it off and replacing the fucking diamond on it changes that you are so wrong, Father."

We faced off for a long moment, the only sound my raging pulse in my ears.

"She was your mother." He said slowly, as if I didn't know that. "I know she made mistakes, I know I made mistakes but that does not change that she was your mother and that this ring is a sacred memory of her." He placed the ring back in my hand, and I stared at it for a long moment. It was beautiful; the moonstone had become a favorite of mine before I even knew my mother's affinity towards it. As a boy, our home still had many decorations adorned with the stone as a remainder of my mother's presence (as soon as wife number two moved in though, everything was replaced with rubies).

"I have no memory of her," I spat, throwing the ring at the wall. My father grabbed me by the collar; he had never in my twenty-seven years laid a hand on me.

"I know damn well you do and you will not disrespect her memory no matter how you feel about her or what you believe happened." He released me, causing me to take a couple of steps back to regain my balance. I straightened out my shirt before turning on my heel and exiting the room, not before struggling with the lock for a moment.

"Goodbye, Father."

I gathered my things, finding the gift for my father in my suitcase. I placed it on the made bed and continued to pack the few things I brought. I unconsciously slammed my suitcase, the sound catching me off guard. I took a deep breath, counting to fifteen before regaining my composure. This was one of the memories I had of my mother that I refused to accept; when I was very small I had an awful temper and she would often go through this exercise to help calm me down.

I completely ignored my father's girlfriend as she tried to catch me on my way out the door, overly concerned about the conversation she just happened to hear. I had already called Driver Kim and he was waiting around the large fountain that decorated the front lawn.

"Home, please." I muttered as I sat down, pulling out my phone. I had a missed call from V as well as a voicemail from him. I opened it as we drove off from my father's home.

"Hey, Jumin. I hope everything is going well at your father's and I normally wouldn't call you over something like this but, I think I might know exactly who you mentioned you met earlier today on the messenger. Call me back when you have a moment. Bye."


	3. 03

It took more self control than I imagined to not immediately call V back demanding answers. I calm myself and ultimately end up feeling apprehensive; I don't want to meet with (y/n) if only to prove something to my father, especially since I'm not even quite sure what I am trying to prove. A part of me is desperate for something refreshing though, something to stop the calculations and surefire equations that have made up my life for seemingly so long. When I arrive home I know I need to return to the office as of yesterday. The notifications from Jaehee's emails are a long line on the screen of my phone.

I take a deep breath. I decide to call V for no more than ten minutes, then take a shower and call Driver Kim to take me to the office. I click V's contact on the screen and wait as the dial tone rings. It continues to drone on until I'm met by the electronic sound of his voicemail box, which is of course full. I roll my eyes as Elizabeth pads her way over onto my lap, rubbing her face against my hand asking to be pet. I happily comply, her soft fur a comforting feeling. I end up just sitting on the couch for ten minutes gently stroking Elizabeth before reluctantly picking her up off of me and getting into the shower. Once I get out I again try to brush through my hair but as much as I comb it down I know by the time I'm sitting at my desk it'll be curling out on the ends. I sigh and get dressed, staring at my drawer of infinite ties for longer than I would like to admit before I just pick a random one and go, picking up my briefcase and going outside where Kim was already waiting for me.

When I get to the office it's silent. The only sound is the muted shuffling of papers and a foot tapping from Assistant Kang's office. I approach the room and notice the shiny plaque adorning the heavy wooden door with her name on it; it is permanently affixed to it since she has already been with me for almost three years. Before Jaehee my longest assistant had been with me for less than six months.

"Mr. Han!" She exclaimed when I poked my head in the doorway.

"Hello, Assistant Kang," I greeted her. She was surrounded by papers and a couple of empty mugs, as well as an array of pens, pencils, and other stationary.

"Why are you here? I know I've been asking you to come to the office but I thought you were on holiday with your father?"

"I was," I answered. "But now I'm here."

Her expression went flat and I knew I wasn't giving her the answer she wanted, which was slightly amusing.

"Anyways," she sighed, gathering herself. She went on about how many deals and documents needed my review and approval, and how I should have been here but she understands I was with my father, but I still should have been here, and that our partners are coming after her in order to get in contact with me, and the cherry farm needs me to resubmit the contract...

She went on for so long I decided to take a seat in front of her desk, my legs beginning to ache beneath me. Once she finished she gave me a long stare, as if she was quite literally trying to see straight through me.

"Something is wrong with you," she said, almost leaning across her desk to get a better look at me.

"Thanks," I chuckled. "I only spent one night with my father but it was a very long one. He never ceases to amaze me with just how far he can cross the line and insist that he has never done such a thing."

She frowned, leaning back in her chair as she took the last sip of coffee from one of the mugs on her desk.

"You work very hard, Mr. Han. I always feel exhausted from how hard I work but I know you're doing probably twice as much without breaking as sweat. It may not be my place to say this, but do not let anyone, even your father, take that away from you."

A long moment passes as we sit in the quiet, and I realize she is the only person working in the office and that everyone else is enjoying the holiday.

"You're right," I finally answer as I stand from the chair and cross the room to the doorway. "It's not your place. But I do appreciate that you think so highly of me, Assistant Kang." She simply nods with a somewhat confused expression as I walk away, entering my own office and closing the door behind me. There is a stack of papers on my desk as tall as Jaehee's, threatening to topple over if I breathed on it the wrong way. I sit down and decidedly bury myself in my work, pushing unwanted thoughts to the back of my head as I read and review and sign, repeat, over and over until the light pollution is visible on the night sky line from my panels of windows.

I look down at my watch finally; it's past two in the morning and Jaehee said goodbye a few hours ago, telling me not to work too hard, but still work hard enough to meet the deadlines. I rest my head on my desk for a moment and it feels like this has been the cycle for an endless loop in my life. It wasn't that the work was too hard or I was too tired to do it; I genuinely enjoyed the business and everything that came with it. I liked being responsible and efficient and important. Nothing was as exciting as a deal with a new client or growing company, signing my name on the dotted line and starting something new. I enjoyed meetings with the company and I enjoyed chatting with my coworkers, and I liked that it was a family business despite being worth more than a billion dollars. It wasn't a supposed longing for a change in career that left me feeling a sinking emptiness in the pit of my chest when I laid my head on my desk after grinding away into the late hours of the night. The tangled web of strings in my head in these moments seemed to pull taut, the friction between them so hot that it would burn to touch, a mere wrong move away from snap. I lifted my head up as my phone rang, V's name lighting up the screen.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hello, Jumin," he replied. "How are you? Sorry I didn't answer your call earlier, I was at a lunch with some old friends. Is everything okay? Are you at your father's still?"

"No," I said. "I left shortly before I returned your call. Everything is fine, I guess."

"You guess?" He laughed.

"I mean, not really. He tried to give me my mother's wedding ring as a gift and told me to propose to a woman with it someday." He snorted in response.

"You're shitting me," he answered. V wasn't easy to surprise or catch off guard so his response validated my own.

"Nope. He tried to tell me it was 'a sacred memory' of her and that I was disrespecting her by refusing it."

"Wow," he sighed. "I see why you left. Are you home?"

"No. I'm at the office catching up a bit."

"It's past two in the morning, Jumin. Jesus Christ."

"I like working." I answered.

"I know you do. You are probably the only person in the world who does." He laughed.

"Don't you enjoy your work? You've loved photography since we were in junior high school."

"Of course I do. But my job is fun, yours is the kind of work most people dread. But I suppose it's good since you do genuinely enjoy what you do."

"Yes." I agreed. "There's no point in working hard unless you enjoy it."

"That's right," he said. "Anyways, let me tell you what I called about in the first place. You said you met a woman the other day, right? In a cab?"

"Yes?"

"Was her name (y/n)?"

"How did you know that?" I kept my voice flat, desperate not to show the excitement ready to beam through.

"She told me she met you. We've been friends for quite a few years, and I met with her today and she mentioned the exact story you did in the messenger."

"How are you friends with her?" I prodded. He chuckled.

"She's a painter. We've been in galleries together and are in the same circle; I actually invited her to the last R.F.A. party but she was away on this big show in Europe at the time. I'm shocked that you two by some force met and were interested in each other."

"Why does that surprise you? She was very beautiful. Any man would have been interested."

"You hardly care about beautiful, Jumin, even though that's true. She is very, very different from you."

"I don't understand. What makes her so different from me that it makes you surprised we were interested in each other?"

"Come on, Jumin. She told me exactly how you acted and it should be clear to even you."

I knew what he meant and that he was right; he wasn't trying to discourage me or keep me from seeing her, just pointing out that it was unlikely we would ever meet in another circumstance.

"Well, she wants to see you again regardless," he fills the silence. "I hope you don't let your usual fears of women get in the way of something good."

"I'm not afraid of women. I'm just apprehensive of their intentions."

"I'm telling you now she is not like the women who have approached you in the past. She has enough wealth of her own and I promise she doesn't care about yours either way. Please give her and yourself a chance, Jumin." He explained.

"Okay," I sighed. "Can you do me a favor and send me her number then?"

"Don't worry," I can practically see his shit-eating grin through the phone. "I'll set you guys up. I have to go now. Goodbye, Jumin." Click.

I'm left sitting alone in the hundred story C&R office building, the only other people the few security guards manning the floors overnight. The wave of exhaustion hits me, my eyelids feeling heavy as I analyzed my remaining work. I wanted to return home (I had told Driver Kim to stay around the area until 5 in the morning, since I anticipated working late), but I also knew if I kept going a bit longer I could get ahead and avoid coming in tomorrow, when there was the possibility of seeing my father. I sat in thought a while, indecision weighing me down. My phone buzzed with a text from V.

I hope you don't have plans next Sunday at 1, I'll send you the address where (y/n) wants to meet. Be nice.

I roll my eyes at the last part; I spent hours on hours learning etiquette and manners as a child, scolded for the smallest shortcoming, as if he didn't know that. I visualize my calendar in my head, realizing he suggested Sunday because he knows I don't work then because of my religion. Most people would think this was V being considerate; I knew after many years being close he was doing it so I couldn't have an excuse not to show up.

I decided to work through the night, the white hot feeling of anticipation for Sunday burning in my chest as I desperately tried to bury myself in endless papers. (Y/n)'s face kept pushing it's way to the forefront of my mind though, her features blurry from time and unfamiliarity. The thought of being able to remember her face whenever I wished was pleasant. V was right before; I did not care about beauty, hardly looking in any woman's general direction unless it was for the company. Even the many models and actresses who approached me didn't grab my attention; my brain seemed to completely avoid anything as indulgent as looking at someone just because they were attractive. (Y/n) made me feel confused though, my brain clawing to recall the details of her expressions and voice. I dug myself deeper in my work, as well as deeper into the thought of (y/n)...


	4. 04

The mere three days leading up to the Sunday I was to meet with (y/n) were uneventful and passed by begrudgingly slow. I had to force myself to stop working the Saturday before so I didn't look exhausted for our date; although we'd already met I still felt this was a chance for a first impression. I was anxious; V had electrified my nerves with all his talk about how her and I were so surprisingly opposite and as I sat in front of my drawer picking out a tie I could feel my pulse in my ears. They sat neatly displayed in the drawer, every one of them taunting me. I decided against a full suit despite not knowing exactly where we were meeting, settling on a button up shirt with a tie and dark slacks; when I mentioned my date in the messenger Seven and Yoosung they insisted on khakis but when I pulled them on I felt sixteen somehow, like I was going on my very first date.

I had showered, gotten dressed, attempted to brush out my hair, and put on my favorite cologne with over twenty minutes to spare. I logged back onto the messenger to pass the time before Kim showed up.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

Yoosung: who cares if all i do is play games

ZEN: You should!! Even trust fund kid has a girlfriend before you

Yoosung: us*

Jumin Han: I do not have a girlfriend.

ZEN: Well you're about to so you better get it together before she comes

Jumin Han: She isn't coming here. I'm meeting her.

Yoosung: where?!

Jumin Han: I don't know. V wouldn't tell me any details.

ZEN: What do you mean V??

Jumin Han: V set up our date. He has been friends with her for a few years apparently.

ZEN: And he's letting her go out with you? Some kind of friend he is

Yoosung: You're so lucky Jumin how is that you meet a girl by chance and somehow your best friend just happens to know her? You must be born under a luckh stra

ZEN: Typos.

Jumin Han: I suppose it was some sort of cooincidence. It's not unlikely though that I would meet someone who I ultimately have connections with since I know so many people in this city.

ZEN: And here he goes again. You only have all these connections because of your money.

Yoosung: i want connections so i can go on a mystery date too :(

Jumin Han: I've said this many times but I did not ask to be born into wealth. It is not wrong of me to use it to my advantage.

ZEN: Yes it is!!

Yoosung: Zen, if you were born with money like Jumin you wouldn't use it ? any one would i think

Jumin Han: Exactly.

ZEN: No. Its not right to use your free pass you got out of the womb and call it success.

Jumin Han: I have to be going now. Zen, I have worked very hard for all of my success and my supposed birthright has less to do with it than you like to believe. Not that I care if you realize that or not. Bye.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

Driver Kim called my phone to tell me he was waiting out front of the penthouse. I took a final look at myself in the mirror; I hoped I wasn't over or underdressed, anxious to see where exactly we were meeting. My hair curled out at the ends but I gave up on the effort to tame it, throwing my jacket on and placing my wallet in my pocket as I took the elevator to the lobby. It was cold outside where I saw Kim waiting and I hurried into the car, shutting the door behind me.

"Hello, Mr. Han," Kim greeted me.

"Good afternoon," I answered. "Here is the address." I handed him a slip of paper where I'd scrawled the address V had texted me and sat back in the leather seats. I would never admit it but I was a wreck; I hadn't been on a date I was actually interested in years and my racing heart made it painfully obvious. We arrived at our destination much too soon and when I stepped out of the car I had wipe the sweat off my hands on my pants.

I looked around the area after I waved Kim off; I didn't see (y/n) anywhere for one, and then I realized I was hardly familiar with where I was, my only experience with the neighborhood from being stuck in traffic. I stood my ground for a while on the wide, open sidewalk, waiting to notice (y/n)'s face among the many that were bustling by. People walked by bundled up in hats and scarves, seemingly impervious to the cold weather. I felt the chill down to my bones, crossing my arms over my chest as I waited. I nearly jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Jumin," Her voice came from behind me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I turned to see (y/n) smiling at me, letting her gloved hand rest on my shoulder as I found myself smiling back.

"(Y/n)," I finally answered. She pulled me into a hug and the gesture was so strangely friendly and familiar, as if we'd met more than once in a one-am taxi cab ride. She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring me as we gave each other a bit of space. We looked each other up and down in the same moment; I took in her figure and her fashion, the tiny space between her boots and the hem of her black pants that hugged her legs, which I imagined must have been freezing.

"You look nice," I said quietly, unable to retain the polite smile I plastered on my face.

"Thanks," she giggled, fidgeting where we stood. "So do you."

A moment of silence passed, suffocating like the winter wind that clasped at my lungs every breath I took in.

"Well," she raised her eyebrows, eyes darting away from me. "Why don't we get inside out of the cold?"

"Yes." I nodded, and followed her into a nearby restaurant. The warmth as I held open the door was a godsend, my fingers tingling from the cold still.

The restaurant was small; a bar with some tables in one room and the dining area in the room parallel. No table had more than three chairs, and the lights were hung low from the ceiling, close to the tables so as to seem more intimate. Unremarkable art hung on the walls, the somewhat dim, warm lighting not doing them much justice. We were sat quickly, our coats taken by the host as we were given a run-down of the menu. The waiter left us be and I looked up from my menu at (y/n). Her face was still flushed from the cold, her lips a little chapped.

"So," I began. "What do you recommend here?"

"Hm?" She looked up at me from her own menu. "I don't know. I've never been here. I thought we were meeting here because you suggested it?"

I looked at her, perplexed.

"V told me to meet you at this address..." I trailed off, wondering exactly who's idea it was to go here. She let out a little laugh.

"Jihyun would set us up like this, wouldn't he?" She smiles, resting her chin in her hand. Her use of his real name is a bit jarring; I hadn't called him Jihyun in front of anyone besides himself and Rika, and even then it had been a very long time. We laugh at his meddling for a moment before our waiter approaches and takes our order, quickly leaving us again.

"You've known Jihyun for a long time right?" She asks. I appreciate her starting the conversation but every piece of me is clawing to know more about her, who she is, what she does, and how she does it. I swish around the glass of wine in my hand, the liquid tinted pink.

"Yes," I reply. "We've been friends since we were about seven or eight. Our families were close so we naturally became close as well."

She smiles at me, and I get anxious as I detect the boredom in her stare.

"What about you?" I scramble. "How do you know V?"

"I've known Jihyun for about five years now. I don't know if he mentioned it, but I'm an artist. He and his fiancé were the only people who came to my first gallery show..." She trails off for a moment, all of her boldness and spontaneity from our first meeting has fizzled into a visible nervousness.

"Go on," I encourage.

"Sorry," She laughs, taking a big sip of her glass of wine. "I don't know why I'm so nervous around you. Anyways, yeah, Jihyun and his fiancé were the only people at my show, and I was ready to quit right there but he came up to me and said 'Are you the artist?' And that was that. You knew Rika, right?"

Her mention of Rika throws me even more off, a tangled mess of memories of her reappearing from where I'd buried them. I recover myself quickly.

"Yes, I knew Rika," I answer curtly. "That's very interesting about how you met V, though. What kind of art do you do?"

"A lot of painting," she replies, and I know she's taken note of how I skirted around the subject of Rika not very smoothly. "I like oil paints a lot, but lately I've been using watercolors. None of the people who usually buy my work like them though." She laughs, and it's a genuine sound, the first thing that wasn't forced from her lips. I take a deep breath.

"You're the head of your company though, right? Do you enjoy your work?"

"My father is the head of our company; I am the director of my branch," I answer. "I love my work. Most people think business like mine is boring or tedious but I truly do enjoy every day I go to work."

"You don't have to defend it to me," She smiles, her eyes crinkling a bit. "I know what it's like to do exactly what your heart wants and have people say you're wrong." Her remark intrigues me and the feeling of boredom begins to fade away.

"I've noticed most people professionally in the arts feel that way," I reply. "Everyone supported me joining my father's company, it's just that most people don't think I truly can enjoy what I do. You're almost the opposite."

Our food arrives and she raises her glass for a toast before taking a bite. After she chews, she meets my eyes with a mischievous smirk.

"You're very funny, Jumin."

"Why is that?" I frown.

"I don't know. It's strange, you know, because like you said we're almost opposites. And this date so far has been painfully awkward and- and forced, right? And under all normal circumstances I would leave today and pray I never see you again, but something inside of me is clawing to know you better. I feel so desperate to figure you out, because something is telling me you are more than Jumin Han, C&R Director of Whatever." She leans back a bit in her seat, her eyes deeply locked on mine. I can't help but smile and find myself laughing before I find the words I want to say.

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual." I say. Our eyes meet again and my heart flutters a bit, every nerve humming.

"Lets skip the polite, trying-to-be-perfect thing," she leans in closer to me. "We are both here for something more."

I nod quietly, finishing off the last of my drink in one gulp. Her smile is contagious and I find my lips curling up as I avoid her gaze, looking down at my plate.

"Let's hear more about you," I breath, taking a bite of my meal.

"Like what?" Her tone is sexy and refined, promising that there is so much to hear about her, enough to keep me intrigued for a lifetime.

"What made you want to be an artist?" I decide on.

"Nothing," she replied simply. "It was the only thing I wanted to do ever since I was a child. I don't believe I ever had a choice in the matter."

"Of course you did," I say. "You always have a choice."

"That might be true," she smiles. "I'm not sure if I did though. It sounds so corny, but nothing compares to how art makes me feel. I think I'd die if I couldn't do art anymore."

"You wouldn't. I wouldn't die if I stopped doing my job, I just wouldn't be as happy."

"What's the point of living if you aren't happy? I'm not saying art is the only thing that... that fulfills me, or brings me joy, but I really don't feel like anything without that part of me."

"That's just a feeling though," I sigh. "Your feelings aren't real enough to say you'd die without one of them." She makes a strange expression, like she's almost taken aback but I have left any sort of politeness behind in exchange for the honestly I'm looking for in her.

"I feel sad that you feel that way." She says. "And that's as real as the food in front of us, or the clothes on our backs. You don't think feelings are important?"

"Not particularly."

"Then what are you doing here?"

It's my turn to be taken back, her gaze freezing me where I sit. I know that I've come off cold and unfeeling; I generally am. But she makes me feel lonely as I consider her leaving me at this strange restaurant alone, never to see her again. It confuses me; why does the person who intrigues me make me feel so incredibly lonely, even though she's sitting here right in front of me, eyes begging for an answer?

"I-" I stutter, caught up in my own thoughts. "I don't really feel that way. I mean, I- I just..."

"Jumin," she says, her voice low and gentle. "Why are you here?"

I pause, closing my eyes and counting to fifteen as I stabilized my breaths.

"I am here because I find you interesting." I finally reply, calm. "I want to get to know you better, (y/n)."

"That's a good start," she smiles, her teeth showing. "Why don't we each ask each other a question back and forth?"

"Okay," I breathe. Her eyes are somehow shining in the dim light, the sparkle enchanting me. "Tell me about your family."

"That's not a question," she laughs.

"Okay then, just your parents. Are you close with them?"

"Yes," she looks a bit nostalgic and I realize I may have asked an uncomfortable question. She's not a child so there's the distinct chance one or more of her parents have passed away and I can't believe my own lack of tact.

She smiles; she isn't confirming my worst fears but she is still quiet. I nod in encouragement to her.

"What do you do when you aren't being a big city business man?" She laughs a bit, teasing in her voice as she returns to normal. I can't help but smile at how she doesn't take me seriously at all, a refreshing change from the usual.

"I enjoy spending time in my garden when it's warmer out. When it's cold though, I usually stay in and just relax because I work a lot during the winter months. I have a few friends from a fundraising association I'm a part of that I see now and then."

"The R.F.A.?"

"How did you know that?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing together.

"Calm down," she laughs. "Jihyun has mentioned it before. He invited me to a party last year to auction some of my pieces."

I nod in understanding; I have to keep reminding myself she is a part of V's world I am unaware of, that she knows more than I realize.

"Okay, my turn. How old are you?"

She snorts, laughing as she takes a sip of her drink.

"You're very funny, Jumin. I've never met a man with no regard for politeness or tact that pulls it off so well."

"Thank you." I nod.

"I'm twenty-three. Same question for you."

I mull over her answer for a second, a little off put that she is still very young and I am 'closer to thirty than anything else' according to V.

"I recently turned twenty-seven." I finally answer. She nods and the look in her eye is analytic; I wonder if she thinks of me differently now that she knows I'm basically old.

"I know it's not my turn but I want to ask anyways. Do you think you're old?" She returns my lack of manners and I mirror the expression of discomfort and mild disgust that I've been given so many times.

"I didn't until V told me I'm closer to thirty than anything else the other day. Now I'm self conscious that you think I'm too old for you. I get to ask two questions now," I say. "Do you think I'm old, and do you think I'm too old to be on a date with you?"

She laughs a little too hard. "No and definitely no- I've dated men much older than you. I can't believe you think you're old."

"Why is that?"

"It's not your turn to ask a question. But I mean, you're as successful as the actually old guys who run the business world you're practically on top of. I'm sure you get complimented on how young you are all the time. Why do you think you're old?"

"Because you're here in front of me, and I care what you think for some reason," I sigh, a little embarrassed.

"There's only four years between us. Do you think I'm too young for you?"

"No."

"Then don't worry about it." She smiles, pushing her plate away from her. We've both been done eating for a while now and the waiter has been circling us like a hawk waiting for one of us to pay the check he left on the table. She reaches for the leather book but I intercept her hand before she can look at it.

"Don't you dare," I frown. "You payed for my cab fare which I know wasn't small last time. It's my turn."

She narrows her eyes where my hand rests on top of hers; she intertwines our fingers, the touch sending a shiver up my spine, my entire body immediately burning up. She grazes her thumb across my skin and I'm absolutely paralyzed by her. Her eyes are deep and somehow dreamy and innocent, her touch soft and knowing, telling me every word that I want to hear without a single breath.

"Thank you," she says, pulling her hand away in a rushed motion, like she was embarrassed. I tip the waiter on our way out after we get our coats back, leading the way back to the arctic tundra. Kim won't be here to get me for at least fifteen or twenty minutes but I don't want to keep her waiting, but it's also so cold that I'm unsure where to go from here.

"I had a great time," she breaks my concentration. "Did you?"

"Yes," I laugh. "I haven't been on a date I actually wanted to go on in a very long time. I'm glad we happened to meet, you know?"

"Yes," she answers. "We should meet again. Soon."

"I agree. Why don't you come over my house sometime next week? Here, let me give you my cell phone number so we don't have to plan everything through V," I laugh, holding out my hand to take her phone.

"Already going to your house? You dog," she laughs, pulling her phone from her pocket and giving it to me. I blush a little at her joke as I type in my contact.

"There's just a lot to do at my penthouse. We can do something else if you want to." I hand her phone back. She's looking at me, her expression teasing as she returns her phone to her pocket. A strange silence settles over us and I decide to reach for her hand, which she hasn't put a glove on yet, and intertwine our fingers.

"I had a really good time," I stammer out. "You're very interesting, (y/n)."

She laughs, squeezing my hand a little.

"You're very interesting too, Jumin," she says. "I'll get in touch with you soon, okay?"

She's saying goodbye and I pull my hand away, giving her a polite smile.

"Thanks for lunch," she waves as she begins to walk away. "Don't meet any other weirdos in a taxi cab at one in the morning, okay?"

She's laughing to herself as she walks away, her figure shrinking. I give a halfhearted wave, about to pull out my phone to call Kim.

"I won't."


	5. 05

A full week passes without any contact from (y/n). It's a nagging thought in my mind, itching to come forward now and then. I know I'm perfectly capable of tapping her name on the screen of my phone and hearing her voice, but my stubbornness forces me to wait for her to make the next move. It isn't until after the New Year while I'm sitting in my office at nearly eleven o'clock at night, Jaehee running down the very long to-do list for the upcoming week that (y/n) flashes across my phone. I immediately answer, barely mouthing a sorry to Jaehee as I exit my office.

"Hello," I answer, suddenly clamming up.

"Jumin?" She replies. "It's (y/n)."

"I know. Sorry, I was doing some work just now."

"Oh, do you want me to call back? If you're busy I-"

"No," I interrupt. "How are you? Is everything okay?"

"What?" She laughs. "I'm fine, I just finished my work for today and I was going to ask if you wanted to meet up for something to eat. I know it's late but I figured you work as late as I do, you know?"

"Oh," I'm a little thrown off that she was thinking of me, feeling flustered as I try to answer. "I'd love to. I need to finish up a couple things then we can meet up somewhere. What restaurant is still open this late?"

"I'll message you the address. The place has really good drinks, and the food is pretty good too. Twenty minutes sound good?"

"Twenty minutes. Perfect," I smile. "I'll see you then."

"See you then." She hangs up and Jaehee is tapping her foot behind me, her neck and ears red with anger. I give her a blank expression, as if I had been on a business call and not just clearly making dinner plans to ditch her.

"I mean no disrespect, Mr. Han, but there really is a lot we have to go over and twenty minutes will not be enough time. I urge you to call whoever that was and reschedule."

"I'll come in early and stay late tomorrow," I reply flatly. Her expression says yeah, right, but she reluctantly gathers her things when we reenter my office, lingering in the doorway for a moment while I send a text to Driver Kim.

"Mr. Han," she says. "It's odd to see you drop everything for a woman. I hope she's worth it."

"Me too," I give her a polite smile, a little aggravated that she's prodding. She stays in the doorway, looking at her feet.

"I'm coming from a place of concern, Mr. Han," she continues. "You haven't been in a relationship as long as I've known you, and I am aware of how many women have treated you in the past. I know you know this, but please be on your guard. It would be foolish to put the company at stake for a woman as your father has."

"Assistant Kang," I say, my voice strong. "Your concerns are valid but I am very capable of handling my own relationships. Don't waste your time worrying about me."

She nods and we leave at the same time, a quiet ride down on the elevator. She waves goodbye and I stand by to make sure she leaves safely; I find Kim shortly after and tell him the address, hoping that my work suit is appropriate for where we're meeting. I brush my hair through with my fingers, feeling the ends sticking out reluctantly. Once we arrive I tell Kim to stick around until I call him, promising overtime for his effort. He nods and tells me to enjoy myself, a strange smile on his lips as he drives off.

The restaurant before me is brightly lit, but it's grandeur betrays the inside, where it's nearly empty. I call (y/n) and hear a phone ringing from inside the dining area; she pops her head up and scans the building with her eyes, smiling when her stare meets mine. I put my phone away and go to her, sitting down across the table.

"Sorry," I say as I take off my jacket and hang it off the back of the chair. "There was a bit of traffic on the way. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"Not at all," she smiles, looking me up and down; I do the same to her. She's in a black dress that exposes most of her back, her hair loosely pulled back, a couple pieces framing her face. I can't deny how attractive she looks, but it doesn't entirely faze me as much as it might someone else. A waitress whose voice is much too loud for the calm environment of the restaurant comes over and takes our drink orders, quickly returning with a tall glass of wine for me and a smaller glass of whiskey for (y/n). She places them opposite though, and it's an awkward exchange as we switch our drinks.

"Oh," she snickers. "I guess you can't tell who really wears the pants with you two." She laughs at her own attempt at a joke, (y/n) giving her an absolutely venomous glare as we entertain her with fake laughter. Finally she leaves us alone after she takes our orders.

"She's interesting, isn't she?" (Y/n) raises her eyebrows, taking a small sip of her drink.

"That's a polite way to put it." I take a big gulp of wine, hoping if I drink enough maybe our waitress will be more enjoyable by the time she returns. I look up from my glass to see (y/n) eyeing me, not breaking her gaze even when our eyes meet.

"What?" I ask, worried there's something on my face or my hair is more messed up than usual.

"Nothing," she smiles, looking away. She plays with one of the rings on her fingers, rubbing her thumb across the milky, round surface. "I just- I'm glad you said yes even though I asked on a whim."

"I had no reason to refuse," I reply, my eyes fixated on her hands. "I was actually hoping to hear from you soon."

She smiles at me, and I can't fight my lips tugging up at the corners too. She lets out a small laugh, drowning the sound in a sip of whiskey.

"You don't smile enough," Her cheeks are a little flushed, like she's embarrassed about what she's saying; it's very cute. "Your smile is too nice to be hidden away like that."

It was my turn to blush; I don't know why, since women in the past had flattered my every detail from head to toe. (Y/n) seemed so genuine though, and I hoped she was as honest as she made herself seem.

"Thank you." I manage to mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"Anyways," she continues. "How was your day today? How was work?"

Her question confuses me for a second; how my day went wasn't something I usually was asked or even thought about.

"Uhm," I cough, considering her question. "It was okay. I had a meeting with my father and my staff, and it went well. I haven't seen my father in a while though, so it was a bit strange."

"You don't see your father often? Doesn't he own your company?"

"Yes, he does. He began the company before I was even born. But I run my own branch while he runs the entire company as a whole." I explain.

"Oh, that's kind of cool," she smirks. "So you were set from before you were even born."

"That's not true," I almost interrupt her. "I worked as hard as everyone else in the company for my position, and as much as it may seem, my success is of my own doing. My father wouldn't hire me just because I'm his son."

She raises her eyebrows, and I'm embarrassed that I defended myself so quickly.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay," she smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "I'm sorry I assumed. You said you haven't seen your father in a while?"

I admire how she drops my overreaction and doesn't push me any further. Her question is a bit prodding but I am the one who brought up my father in the first place.

"Yeah," I breath. "He upset me the last time we met, so I've been avoiding him."

"That's too bad," she frowns, and I can see she's deciding whether or not to poke further, until a different waitress returns with steaming plates in hand. She sets them down and leaves us be; (y/n) raises her glass to me and I raise mine too, clinking them together and taking a sip as we eye each other.

"Do you always toast before a meal?" I ask, remembering our last date.

"Yeah," she laughs a bit. "My dad used to do it all the time, so I guess I picked it up too."

Her explanation is somehow so endearing that I find myself blushing over it, trying to hide my expression by taking a bite of the meal in front of me.

"Are you close with your father?" I tread after I finish chewing, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes are cast downward, the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

"Yes," she says quietly. "My dad and I are very close. He's my best friend."

"That's great," I say. "Not many people our age get to be so close with their parents. I guess you and I are lucky."

She nods almost solemnly, finishing the last of her drink and quickly calling the waitress over for more. I spend a moment curiously watching her; her eyes refuse to meet mine and she's downing the whiskey much faster than she was two minutes ago, and it clicks in my head that despite the way she's talking about him, her father is dead.

"I- I'm really sorry, (y/n)-"

"What for?" She smiles, her eyes pained.

"Is your father..." I trail off, unable to find a tactful way of saying it.

She nods. "Yeah, he's uh... he isn't around anymore. Sorry for being weird about it."

"What?" I scoff, confused. "Don't be sorry. I'm the one who couldn't take a hint."

She giggles, ringing out her hands and taking a big breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering herself.

"Sorry. Sorry," she laughs, finally looking at me in the eyes. "It's hard and complicated and weird, you know? There are days I can talk about him for hours without a problem and then there's days where I can't even see the word 'father' on accident without losing my mind."

Her hand is laid flat on the table, her ring shining a little in the light. It's milky but translucent, a little prismatic in the right light.

"Is that moonstone?" I tentatively reach for her hand, raising her fingers towards me. She creases her eyebrows as I run my thumb across the smooth surface.

"Yes. My dad actually gave that to me, before he died. He got it in India before I was born..." She answers, her voice soft.

"That's funny," I smile at her, genuinely, as I gently place her hand down. "My mother loved moonstone; our entire house was practically covered in it when I was a boy. And just this past Christmas, my father tried to give me the engagement ring he gave her- it doesn't look like this, though... it's more over the top. She loved things like that."

Her expression is deep and I realize I've rambled on. I begin to apologize but before I can, she covers my hand with her own.

"How old were you when she passed?"

I'm hesitant to answer just because I said a little too much, but her thumb grazing my palm practically drags the words from my lips.

"I had just turned eight."

"Was she sick?"

"You could say that," I almost chuckle. "She left on her own accord, which was how she did everything. I guess in the end it was almost fitting in a dark sort of way."

"Were you upset?" She asks, her hand still warm and encouraging on mine. I don't know what it is, but for some reason I go on.

"I never cried about it. Even at the funeral, the only time I ever saw my father cry, I didn't feel anything. I didn't know how to feel so I just felt nothing."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Jumin," she says, squeezing my hand before pulling away. "I know it was a long time ago, but... I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," I reply, my fingers feeing cold. "It was almost twenty years ago. She was never much of a mother to me, anyways."

"That doesn't mean you can't feel about it still," she frowns. "I don't think I'll ever be at peace with either of my parents' deaths, but one thing I've learned about loss is that the only way to ever heal is to let yourself feel about it. I don't know if that makes sense."

"(Y/n)," I frown. "Your mother, too?"

"Listen, Jumin," she leans into the table, magnetically pulling me as well. "I'm not talking about me, I'm just saying; I care about you, and I know what it's like if it was twenty years ago or yesterday afternoon. I know what it's like to be angry at them for dying, and what it's like to think I've found peace only to have it crashing down. I know about loss and no matter how much you play up the cold, above it all demeanor, you're human and our pain is the same."

We stare at each other for an impossibly long moment, and I ultimately feel overwhelmed by her words and her fathoms deep gaze. I quickly stand from my chair, excusing myself. I desperately search for the restroom and lock the door behind me once I step inside, clutching the bowl of the sink to hold myself up. I rest my forehead against the glass of the mirror, squeezing my eyes shut tight and counting before I open them, looking at myself. I'm shaking a bit; the weight of everything seemed to be resting on my shoulders and I was powerless. I turn the faucet on and splash cold water on my face, realizing how flushed I am as the chill runs through my whole body. After a few minutes to get myself together, simply pushing the unpleasant feelings away, I take another deep breath and return to the table; when I come back, though, the chair (y/n) had just been sitting in is empty. On the table sits the check, paid, one word scrawled across the thin white paper, the pen haphazardly thrown on the table.

Sorry.


	6. 06

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han promised he would be in early today but it's nearly noon and I haven't heard a word from him. I can't believe he did this.

707: why did he say he'd come in early ???

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han! Where are you?! We were supposed to have a board meeting at ten today and the Director is furious with you!

Jumin Han: I'm sorry Jaehee. I know I said I'd be there today but something came up last night and I couldn't make it in. My father can continue the meeting without me.

Jaehee Kang: No he cannot. You were supposed to finish the last of the expense reports last night, but you left. That's why you were supposed to come in early today.

707: so irresponsible jumin get it together

Jumin Han: I actually wanted to ask a favor of you, Seven.

707: what ?! you want me to watch elly?!?!?

Jumin Han: Absolutely not.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han, I insist that whatever you need can wait and that you come to the office immediately. There's still time to hold the meeting if you hurry.

Jumin Han: Can you trace a phone number for me? To an exact location?

707: Depends what for.......

Jumin Han: I don't want to tell you. It's not bad though.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han. Please.

707: hmmm......if you say it's not bad then I guess I can trust that. Send me the number and the name if you have it

Jumin Han: Thank you very much. I'll send it to you now, but I need the address as soon as possible.

707: got it. give me a sec.

Jaehee Kang: I sincerely hope for both of our sake's that this is business related.

Jumin Han: It's not.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han, you have been distracted lately. Please shift your focus back to the company and off of whatever is distracting you.

Jumin Han: This is more important right now. I can catch up on everything as soon as I sort this out.

707: wow she's really cute!!! is this the girl you've been seeing?

Jumin Han: I said I didn't want to say.

Jaehee Kang: I knew it.

707: dude she's so cute wtf

707: how is she even your type?? she doesn't seem like the business type

Jumin Han: She isn't. That's why I like her. Did you get the address?

707: yeah yeah no problem ill send it to you now. let us know how it goes. now I get to see elly right ?

Jumin Han: No. But thank you again.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

I shove my phone in my pocket, carefully grabbing the bouquet on the counter and heading outside to the car where Kim waited for me. Frigid rain fell from the sky, soaking through my shirt before I even sat in the backseat. I told Kim the address, trying to dry off as quickly as possible even though I'd get wet once I got out again.

"This address is in a residential area. May I ask who you're going to see?" Kim's voice was mischievous, but I didn't mind telling him the truth.

"It's the girl I've been seeing the last few weeks. We went out last night but it didn't go well, so I'm going to fix it."

"What happened?"

"A lot," I begin. "We ended up talking about our parents which of course didn't go well. She just- she was really trying to get into my head and it overwhelmed me, but I guess getting up in the middle of dinner and having a temper tantrum just made it worse. When I came back she was gone, and she had just paid the tab and left a note that said 'Sorry'. I don't know why, but it doesn't sit well to leave things as they are."

"Why did you leave once your parents came up?"

"I don't like to talk about my parents," I sigh. "She asked about my mother, and after what my father pulled on Christmas I just felt like it was too much."

He hums and nods in response, turning onto a street lined with large, glassy houses, windows adorning every wall and pools covered in blue tarps peeking through hedges. He pulls into an equally lavish driveway, rain pattering against the windows still.

"Good luck," he smiles at me as I leave, hunching myself over the bouquet in an attempt to keep it dry. I hurry up the steps to the front door, quickly finding the doorbell, finding solace in the awning covering me for the moment. The door opens a few seconds later and (y/n)'s face appears through the crack.

"Jumin?" She raises her eyebrows, clearly not enthused. "What are you doing here?"

"I- I..." The words I'd practiced in my head on the way suddenly left me, and I simply stood in front of her with my mouth open, wet roses dripping onto my already wet clothes.

"Jesus Christ," she groaned, pulling me by my arm. "You're letting the heat out. Get in." She waves Kim off as she pulls me inside.

I look her up and down. She's wearing a t-shirt practically caked in paint, and loose jeans that hang nicely off of her hips. Her feet are bare, her hair messily tied back, her hands and arms covered in paint as well. I'm apprehensive to hand her the flowers now, but she's looking at them and back at me, looking for an explanation.

"Uh, these are for you..." I stammer, placing them in her arms. She smiles at them, a soft expression on her face.

"Purple?" She chuckles, looking at me. "Do you know what purple roses mean? ...And six to match? You must."

"Of course," I find myself blushing. "A hundred red roses don't mean anything. I knew you would see right through something like that."

"I would," she agrees, taking in my appearance. "Why don't you come sit by the fire? I'll start it up for you." I nod, thankful she noticed me shivering in my wet clothes as I follow her into what I assume is the living area. All of the floors are hard wood, the only rug the mat at the front door; there's a sectional couch as well as a loveseat and a single, all of them deep black. I settle on the loveseat because it's closest to the fireplace, and the fact that the couch is already occupied by two cats. Both are Siamese, their paws and ears dark brown, with long, off-white bodies, their eyes a glowing yellow.

She switches on the fire and it crackles to life, the cats jumping from their place on the sectional over to her, twining themselves around her legs. She picks them both up and sits next to me, our legs touching. The cats take tentative sniffs of me as I hold my hand out for them; they eventually settle into taking turns rubbing up against both me and (y/n), purring quietly.

"That's Andy," she motions to the cat in my lap. "And this is Jean-Michel." Her French accent is undeniably sexy, and I'm more attracted to her where she sits next to me in front of the fire, covered in paint right now than I have ever been attracted to anyone else.

"What's with the names?" I ask, feeling calm for the first time in seemingly ages.

"They're named after some of my favorite artists. They were good friends in real life so I thought it was fitting." She seems a little embarrassed by her own explanation, her cheeks and neck fading into a soft red.

"That's cool," I say, looking in her eyes. "It suits them, I think." She smiles and I'm overcome by the urge to kiss her, but I don't.

"So," she sighs, leaning back into the cushion of the seat. "Welcome to my place. I would have cleaned up, but I'm not even sure how you found my address and before you try and explain I don't wanna know." She laughs, a tired look in her eyes.

"Sorry for not telling you, but I was afraid you would say no."

"You're not wrong there," she smiles. "I'm glad you're here though. I was getting antsy."

"I, uhm-" I stutter, taking a second to collect myself. "I'm sorry, for last night. I shouldn't have just stormed away like I did, I just- I felt..." I trail off. Her expression begs me to continue, like she's hanging onto my every word.

"I felt overwhelmed." I breath, scared to continue. "We were just talking about our parents, and- and, I haven't had to talk about my mother in a very long time. I haven't wanted to talk about my mother in a very long time and you brought that out of me, and I just... you've done nothing but throw me off at every turn." I laugh a bit, embarrassed that I've rambled on yet again. She gives me a long, contemplative look, her lips tugged up at the corners just the slightest.

"I'm not sorry." She finally says, the cat in her lap hopping off, the other following.

"You make me feel so at odds with myself," I say, her gaze drawing more unneeded explanation out of me. "You know, I've always had this tangled mess of threads in my head, and no one has ever bothered to try and pull on any of them. You've somehow managed to tug on every single one and it feels like they're untangling, and if I'm honest that terrifies me."

She stares at me with a slightly different expression and I'm scared I've said too much and that she isn't going to understand me as well as I'm so desperate for her to. She gently places her palm against my cheek, pushing my hair behind my ear. I know I'm a blushing mess, my hands shaking in my lap as she traces my jaw with her thumb, letting her hand rest on my collarbone.

"It's okay," her voice is barely above a whisper. "I won't hurt you. You don't have to be afraid of me."

"I know you won't, but (y/n), you're too good to be true. It's too easy to lose you and I'm terrified to give you my heart and have you leave." I chuckle, my own sensitivity sounding corny.

"Jumin, it's okay to be afraid. But you'll never know if you never try, and I'm here telling you I won't hurt you. I'm sorry I left last night; I thought I said too much and I shouldn't have run away like I did. We both messed up."

"And that's okay?"

"Seriously?" She laughs. "You don't mess up at all?"

"Not usually."

"Jesus," she chuckles. "Well get used to it. Love is basically one long string of messing up and learning that it's okay."

"Love?" My voice cracks, her use of the word shooting through my heart.

"Yeah, love," she says in an almost childlike, mocking tone. "Don't be so afraid of it." She stands up and my body moves on it's own accord as I stand as well, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. I rest my chin on her shoulder, and all the nervousness dissipates as she raises her hand to cup my cheek, looking at me fondly. I smile at her and it isn't forced; her expression changes and she's shifting around in my arms so our bodies are flush, her arms slowing wrapping around my neck and pulling me towards her. Her hand falls to the side of my neck as she places her lips on mine, the sensation soft and warm and electrifying all at once. She pulls away after a long, lingering moment, her cheeks pleasantly flushed as she maintains the closeness between us. I'm drawn to pull her in close again, my arms wrapping around her so nicely while she rests her head on my shoulder, her breath on my neck. I tuck my head into the crook of her neck, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as I savored her embrace. I begin to pull away but she squeezes me tight, keeping me put.

"Sorry," she whispers into my ear. "No one has ever left me so enchanted before. I guess I'm afraid too."

We both pull away and our hands linger on each other, and I hope I'm not the only one left wanting more. She smiles at me and I smile back, and it's strange that I don't have to fake it when I'm with her.

"Uhm," she looks down at her paint covered shirt, picking at the caked colors on her skin. "Are you gonna stay? If you are I'd like to go clean up."

"No," I answer, fixing the cuffs of my jacket. "I have to go into the office today and meet with my father. I'm dreading it though." I half laugh, the stress of seeing him again beginning to gnaw at me. I can't deny that the curiosity of what she's painting is eating away at me even more though, and I decide to postpone work in favor of (y/n).

"But... I'd love to see what you're working on before I take my leave, if you'd let me." Her grin is so wide, her eyes practically sparkling that I can't help the heat that spreads up my neck and across my cheeks.

"Yes!" She laughs, pulling me up the stairs by my arm, almost running down the halls. "I was dying for you to ask. I'm so happy."

She keeps a gentle hand on my arm as she opens a large door at the end of the hallway, opening up to a room that's almost completely made up of windows, white walls filling in the spaces. The floor is a light wood, but it's absolutely ruined by the paint covering it; I wonder how she thinks she'll ever fix it if she plans on selling someday.

"Wow," I finally speak. "You don't put a tarp down or something when you work?"

"No," she laughs. "It slips too much and I don't like how it feels on my feet." Her explanation seems to make perfect sense to her but it leaves me confused as I look down at her bare feet, which also have paint on them. She lets go of me and walks to the center of the spacious room where a large canvas lays flat, tubes of paint haphazardly spread around it. She sits down cross legged, patting the floor next to her; I refuse to ruin my clothes and settle on crouching down, finding a spot where the paint on the floor has dried so my shoes stay clean.

"This is it," she grabs a small brush that rests against a palette, dipping it in a glob of pinkish paint, leaning over the canvas. "I've been working on it for a few days now. I really like it so far."

I examine the painting; a man's face is tilted downward with his eyes just barely open, his expression serene. He's surrounded by an array of light, delicate flowers, and one of his hands is raised, almost like he's caressing the petals. It's soft and calming just to look at, and her talent can't be denied even though it's not finished yet.

"You painted this?" I ask, somewhat dumbfounded.

"Uh, yeah," she laughs. "Do you wanna see some others? I have a bunch that I haven't shown anyone yet." She stands up and collects a number of canvases from around the room, setting them down in a line. They're all breathtaking, different scenes of people surrounded by countless blossoms, all of them evoking different feelings from me that I never knew I had. They all settle together nicely, a set.

"Are they all supposed to go together?"

"Yes," she smiles down at them, hands on her hips showing that she's proud of them. "These are all for my next gallery. I don't want to sell them though."

"Isn't that the point though?" I frown.

"Not at all," she creases her eyebrows together. "I'm just lucky people want to spend their money on my work. I'd still paint even if they didn't though, because I love it so much. I love these pieces, and I don't know if I can go through with giving them another home."

Her explanation doesn't make sense to me, and I'm ultimately left confused. I let it go though, knowing that my brain was probably hopeless to understand.

"I like them," I say as I step closer to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. "Would you sell them to me?"

"No way!" She laughs, taking my hand off her shoulder, twining our fingers together. "These are a part of my soul. You can't just have them because you like them."

"Everyone has a price," I chuckle, grabbing her other hand. She begins to spin us in a circle, her eyes never leaving mine. "I want them in my home. However much you want, it's yours."

"No," she gives me a faux suspicious gaze. "You don't love them enough. Plus there's only five right now and there's going to be seven so you can't even say if you want them all yet."

"Why seven?" I ask, twirling her around and pulling her back close to me, dancing to the rain pattering against the windows.

"Lucky number seven." She nods, and I'm surprised by the lack of a deeper meaning but it's also pleasantly effortless, as if she doesn't need a good reason to want seven. I find myself smiling at her, my heart calm and quiet. She continues to lead us through the dance to the music that isn't playing, and her expression is warm like the sun in the beginning of June, comforting and soft.

"I love your smile," she sighs, reaching one of her hands out to cup my cheek, the wetness of the paint cool on my skin. "Jumin."

"Yes?"

"Why don't we go out again? I want to do something besides eat."

"Okay," I replied. "Whatever you want, we'll do."

"No," she frowns. "What do you want to do?"

I think about it for a moment, letting my free hand slip down to her waist, comfortably resting against the exposed skin between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her jeans.

"I don't know. It's too cold out to go to my cherry farm, but I'd like to take you there someday. Do you like to travel? My father owns property on an island that's only a few hours away by plane, and it's always nice there."

"Taking me to tropical islands already? How about something a little less extravagant." She giggles.

"Well, there's always plenty to do at my penthouse. You can shop, there's a movie theatre, I have an indoor pool that's heated in the winter. I'm sure something will suit you."

"What do you want to do, Jumin?" She asks again.

"Why do you keep asking that? There's nothing I've said that you're interested in?" I frown.

"That's not it," she laughs a bit. "I don't want to do something just because I want to. I want us both to enjoy ourselves."

"What?" I scoff. "I'd be happy to just sit on the couch with you and not do anything. I have too much to occupy me and I find you refreshing."

"How about we do that then? Let's just have a nothing date."

"You don't care if we don't do anything?" I raise an eyebrow.

"My pool is heated too, and the theatre is a five minute drive away. I can shop whenever I want to. I don't need to get flown to a far away island to be happy, Jumin. I like being with you."

My phone rings loudly, disrupting the calmness that had settled over us. It's Jaehee and I know I need to answer, but I decline the call, sighing loudly.

"I have to leave," I say, a little annoyed.

"Don't look so upset," she smiles, stepping close to me and resting her hands on my chest, making me nervous. "I thought you were the man who loves work?"

"I think I like you more," I reply. She blushes a bit, giving me a light push.

"Get outta here," she says quietly, crouching back down to pick up the paintings she'd shown me and returning them to where they belonged. "We both have work to do."

I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her into me. Her eyes are wide as I lean into her, pressing my lips against hers for a quick moment before releasing her and walking out of the studio.

"I'll call you later, (y/n)," I wave as I exit, my own boldness surprising me as I walk down the stairs and to the front door, shutting it behind me. I call Kim and he's pulling into the driveway minutes later; the rain has let up a bit, more of an annoying drizzle at this point. I hurry into the car, feeling lighter somehow.

"To the office, please." I say, looking out the window as he pulls out and drives away from the residential streets.

"May I ask how your meeting went?"

"Don't call it a meeting," I chuckle. "It went very well, though."

"I'd say," he chuckles. "I've never seen you look so pleasant before. She must really have cast a spell on you."

"Yes," I agree, wondering what the rest of (y/n)'s paintings will look like, and when I'll get to see them again. "She's unlike anyone I've ever known before. She always leaves me wanting more."

"I never thought I'd hear you say anything like that," He laughs.

I smile as the houses fade back into skyscrapers, the city welcoming us with its sounds cars screeching by and honking at each other.

"Neither did I."


	7. 07

Walking into the office after leaving (y/n)'s home inevitably led to me, stuck in my office for the next nine days, forced to ignore calls and send one-word responses to her without a decent explanation. I spent day and night planted firmly in my chair, and if not I was in the conference room making sure everybody was doing the same. Any time I tried to sneak a moment away, Assitant Kang swiftly put me back in my office. I began to dread going to work as (y/n)'s messages changed from 'No worries' to 'Why haven't you been answering lately?', guilt eating me up despite being powerless.

I'm going on my tenth day in a row when Assiatant Kang knocks on the door to my office, keys in her hands. I wave her in, only looking up from my computer for a moment.

"I'm going to run and get something to eat, do you want me to bring you back anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Mr. Han," Worry paints her face as she gets ready to lecture me. "I understand there's a lot to do, but you can't neglect your health. I know you've been skipping meals and it's not good for you or your work."

"Fine," I sigh. "Bring me back anything. Whatever you get is fine."

"Thank you," she calls as she leaves, leaving me alone again. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment, making sure Jaehee has left before pulling out my phone, crossing the room and closing the door before clicking (y/n)'s name on the screen. The ringing went on, and I began to lose heart just when she answered.

"Hello?"

"(Y/n)," I breathe, relief washing over me. "I'm so glad you picked up. I'm sorry I haven't been around lately."

"Yeah!" She snickers, hopefully at least only half upset. "I was worried about you. I thought you'd worked yourself to death."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I chuckle, happy to hear her voice even if it was just over the phone. "Everybody in the company is working overtime to finish this project we've got with another very large company. I'm only calling you now because my assistant left for a moment and she'd have my head if she caught me."

She Oohhh's in response, a few beats of silence between us making me uncomfortable.

"How have you been though? How is your work going?" I ask, desperate to fit in as much conversation as possible before Jaehee comes in and confiscates my phone from me.

"It's been great," she answers. "My gallery show for the pieces I showed you is only a week from Thursday now. I'm getting nervous." She gives a halfhearted laugh, almost self deprecating.

"Why are you nervous?" I ask, confused. "Those paintings are beautiful. Nobody intelligent would say they're not."

"I guess," she laughs. "I'm struggling with the final piece. I haven't done a proper gallery since I did this big event in Europe, which was almost a year ago. I don't even have a dress yet."

"I'm sure it will go great. Are you displaying just the pieces you showed me or anything else?" I'm surprised by my own curiousity, considering with V I couldn't follow along with the talk of his photography for more than a few minutes before I was confused. With (y/n) though, everything she said kept me on the edge of my seat, begging for more.

"There'll be much more. I think that's why I'm so nervous, because I'm displaying a lot of pieces that are really personal to me for the first time... I actually wanted to ask you something, Jumin."

"Of course," I say; as she begins to speak, though, my father enters my office and I feel like a child caught drawing on the walls as he stares down at me blankly from across the room. "Uh, Father. One moment please."

"Jumin? Is everything okay?" (Y/n)'s voice fades as I set my phone down on my desk, not hanging up.

"Who is that on the phone?" He asks, no inflection of any sort in his voice.

"Uh," I stammer, at a loss for words in front of my father. "It's uhm- it's the woman I told you about a while ago. I was just trying to catch up with her for a moment before getting back to work."

"A woman?" His eyes widen. "Are you two seeing each other?"

"...Yes." My face is burning hot, and the fact that I am, in fact, twenty seven years old does not do anything to make me feel less like a sixteen year old boy.

"Well you better pick up the phone, son. Nobody likes to be left on hold." His smile is huge and I can tell he's clawing to fawn all over me, but I'm thankful as he gracefully exits my office, shutting the door behind him.

"Hello? (Y/n)?"

"Jumin! What the hell?" She's more than half upset now, and I quickly try and run damage control.

"I'm sorry!" I exclaim. "My father came in and needed to talk to me. What were you saying? You wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," she sighs. "My gallery- can you make it?"

I don't know how I didn't expect it, but her request catches me completely off guard. I stammer for a moment, going over my schedule in my head.

"I'll have to check with my assistant and make sure I'm available. Can you send me the details, actually?"

"Uhm," her voice is disheartened and quiet. "Okay. I mean, Jihyun is going to be there too, if that makes a difference. I'd really appreciate it if you could make the effort to come."

"It doesn't make a difference if V is there or not. I do want to come, but it's very busy with my company right now. You have to understand." Her tone makes me feel defensive for some reason, but my excuses seem half-assed, even to me.

"Everybody is busy, Jumin." She's short, and I realize I've pushed a button I shouldn't have.

"(Y/n), don't be upset with me. It's childish." I bite back.

"Seriously, Jumin?" Her voice is higher than usual, and I'm suddenly a bit angry now too. "I'm asking you to spend one night supporting me after you've ignored me for over a week. I understand you're busy but so is everyone else and you need to make time for the people you care about."

Jaehee enters my office with an annoyed expression when she takes notice of me on my cell phone; I hold up a finger to her, definitely ready to wrap up the conversation with (y/n).

"Listen, can we finish this later?" My voice goes flat, no longer interested in arguing. "Can you come over to my house tonight so we can talk?"

"Are you kidding me?" She spits out. "I do not run on your schedule, Jumin. Figure out how to make time for me in your oh-so busy life yourself. Bye." I'm left with a droning dial tone, a strange weight settling on my chest.

"Everything okay?" Jaehee treads, placing a fragrant bag on my desk.

"Yes." I quickly answer, not interested in the third degree from Jaehee about what she might have heard. "Thank you for the food."

"No problem," she sighs, walking away. "Remember, the director from the company we discussed in the meeting earlier this week is coming in at four. Let me know if you need help preparing any paperwork."

I thank her again and she hesitantly leaves. I'm left alone with a take out meal and no appetite, my thoughts eating me up as I desperately try to focus on the work in front of me.

The hours pass by and it's around ten at night when I finalize the presentation for our partner company's meeting next week. I click send, my father the last person who needs to approve everything before we can continue. Leaning back in my chair, I take a deep breath, slowly letting the air out of my lungs before I stood up to gather my things. When I look up though, I see (y/n) standing in the doorway, her expression venomous.

"(Y/n)," I say, trying to size up exactly how angry she is. "Who let you up here?"

"Is that really the first thing you have to say to me?" She spits out, slowly closing the distance between us.

"Yes," I answered, thinking it was obvious. "Only employees for C&R have clearance to be on this floor. Whoever let you up here is going to lose their job."

"I'm going to lose my job?" My father appears in the doorway behind (y/n), a smirk on his lips.

"Father!" I began to sweat, crossing the room towards where they both stood. "You can't just let people up whenever you please. It's against the rules."

"Are you kidding me right now?" (Y/n) took a step closer to me, as if she was ready to throw a punch should she need to. "I came out here to talk to you and all you can do is bitch about breaking a stupid rule? Don't you have anything else to say to me?"

"It's not a stupid rule," I defended. "Rules are set to be followed. And I told you to come to my house, not my office. You shouldn't have acted on your own accord."

"Oh my god," she groaned, running her hands through her hair, exasperated. My father gently nudged her to the side, stepping around her and meeting me eye to eye.

"Son," he began, his expression stern. "As your father, I don't like to tell you to do anything, but I am telling you this now: acting like you are now is not as clever or easy as you think it is. I know you don't want to hear it, but I made the same mistake with your mother and it's one of the reasons she isn't here today. There is a beautiful woman standing behind me who deserves better than a workaholic who makes time when it's convenient; please don't make the same mistakes I did, Jumin."

Silence settles over the room, and my father exits after placing a firm hand on my shoulder, his eyes deep with age and secrets I'd never know. He shuts the door behind him, leaving me to face (y/n).

"(Y/n)," I mumbled, my eyes trained to my shoes. "I'm sorry for what I said on the phone. You weren't being childish, I was."

"Jumin, listen," she pleaded, filling the distance between us and grabbing my hands in hers. "I really like you, but I'm your equal before I'm your girlfriend. I'm busy like you, I have meetings and reports and calls just like you. I'm sure you have your ideas about how I live my life, but we have a lot to learn about each other still. And I want to give us the chance for that, but I refuse to stand in second place to you; if you're looking for that I might as well just leave now."

"I know," I nod. "I know. I'm just... I'm used to women approaching me because they think I have all this money and power over them. You're strange because you already have all that, so it leaves me thinking 'What could you want with me?'. That's all anyone has ever wanted me for."

"Jumin," she mumbles, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, squeezing. "You're more than what anyone thinks of you. You can let that image go when you're with me, because I really don't care for it; I like you when you're vulnerable and when you smile, when you don't act like you're too cold to feel anything. I like you when you're you."

I like the way her words feel against my throat, and how her hair is soft beneath my fingers when I raise my hands to pull her in closer. She smells flowery as I breathe her in, and I take a while to savor the moment before speaking.

"Thank you." I speak into the crook of her neck, scared to let her go. She slowly untangles herself from me, looking me in the eyes.

"I need to get going," she takes a step away. "I have a lot I need to get ready for next week."

"Wait," I grab her wrist as she steps into the doorway, my heart racing in my chest. "Please come home with me tonight. I know you're busy and so am I but I don't want to be away from you right now."

She stares at me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful with the slightest hint of mischief. Finally, her lips curl into my favorite smile and her hand grasps mine, opening the door of my office.

"Hey, I have to get my things first," I laugh, quickly throwing on my coat and shoving everything haphazardly in my briefcase, gladly accepting (y/n)'s hand in mine as she offers it to me. I lock the door behind us and see Jaehee putting on her coat as she exits her own office, her eyes surveying the both of us suspiciously.

"Goodnight, Mr. Han," she says, giving (y/n) a leery nod before getting on the elevator and closing it well before we could meet her there.

"Who's that?" (Y/n) asks, snaking her arm up around mine, closing the distance between us.

"That was my assistant, Jaehee."

"Oh," The sounds falls from her mouth, round and curious. "She seems very serious. Even more business than you." The elevator opens up for us, empty, a solid minute before we reach the ground floor (I have counted the seconds passing many times on the way down).

"Yeah," I answer absentmindedly, waiting for the doors to meet before placing my hand against the wall behind (y/n), leaning in to kiss her on the lips, long and lingering. She angles herself closer to me, her hand pulling me in deeper by the back of my neck, running her fingers through my hair. She smiles into the kiss and I take it as an invitation to her open mouth, meeting her tongue with mine as we descended back to the ground. I hear the elevator ding and the sound of the doors pushing open, (y/n) biting my lower lip before pushing me off of her and grabbing my hand, leading the way out of the building.

"My driver is parked right there," I nod to the black car on the curb, engine running. We slide into the backseat and (y/n) places a mischievous hand on my thigh as I tell Kim to bring us home, the city streets quiet since it's a weeknight. She begins to slide her hand up slowly, but I cover it with my own hand, giving her a sidelong glance as she looks out the window innocently. When we reach my penthouse we repeat the elevator ride at the office on the way up to my suite, locking the door behind me before I led her to my bed, pushing her down as I took my coat off, tossing it on the floor. A loud meow came from under it though, Elizabeth desperately trying to nudge her way out from under it. I laugh as I pluck it off of her, her expression angry, then taking notice of (y/n) on my bed.

"Is that your cat?" She asks, her voice unusually high pitched, pushing me off from where I had been straddling her just seconds ago.

"Yeah," I reply, following her down to where she sat on the carpet, petting Elizabeth. "Her name is Elizabeth the Third."

"Oh my god," she squealed, picking up Elizabeth and sitting her in her lap, leaning down to kiss her fur. "This is the prettiest cat I've ever seen. I'm gonna lose it, Jumin."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Jumin, this is the best cat ever." Her tone is serious, matter of fact. "I've never believed in love at first sight but I think I get it now."

"Are you serious?" I scoff, although charmed by her reaction. "What about your cats?"

"I love them too," she laughs, setting Elizabeth down on the floor, where she nudges her head into my legs, purring. "But this cat is perfect. Look at her."

"I know," I stand up, extending my hand to (y/n), pulling her close to me as she gets up. "You can pet Elizabeth tomorrow. I want you right now."

She frowns down at where Elizabeth circles between our feet, looking indecisive. I'm a little shocked that it's not me choosing between my cat and sex, but eventually (y/n) laughs and pushes us back onto my bed, straddling me as she slowly unties my tie, her eyes dark. I let her unbutton my shirt, running her fingers down my bare chest before flipping us around, smiling as I lean down to kiss her for the first of many times that night.


	8. 08

The next morning I awake to a weight on my chest; I look down and it's (y/n), her head cradled against my body. I take a moment to reminisce on the previous night before waking her up. Not only did she pluck my tie off the ground and hand it to me when I awkwardly suggested I tie her wrists together, but when the words 'little girl' somehow stumbled out of my lips she simply smiled and responded, 'Yes, Mr. Han'. I stroked her hair gently now, her bare shoulders dotted with purple marks from hours ago.

"(Y/n)," I whispered, running my hand down her back. "Wake up."

Her eyes lazily opened, and her lips formed the most serene smile when they met mine. She squeezed me a little tighter from where she laid on top of me, squirming a bit before resting her weight on her elbows, lingering above me.

"Good morning," I hummed, running my hand through her hair again.

"Good morning, Mr. Han," she giggled, giving me a teasing expression. I felt my entire body heat up, my face and neck immediately changing to bright red in embarrassment; I looked away, unable to make eye contact with her even though I couldn't help the smile on my face.

"Sorry," I mumbled, covering my face with my hands. She pushed them off though, a mischievous smirk as she held them together just above my head, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips.

"Don't apologize. I didn't expect you had a side like that but that doesn't mean I didn't like it." Her smile is alluring and deviant, and as she stands up stark naked from my bed it takes everything in my power not to pull her back in and repeat last night. I sit up as I watch her get dressed, pulling on her wrinkled clothes from the floor.

"Hey, stop watching," she complains. "It's weird."

"Seriously?" I laugh. "It's nothing I haven't seen now."

"Watch your mouth, Jumin," she chuckles, pointing a finger at me as she pulls her shirt over her head. She sits at the edge of my bed, looking down at me with a small smile on her lips still.

"I better get going," she says quietly, placing a hand on my leg. "Lots of work to do. Barely a week left until the big day."

"Don't leave yet," I sound desperate even to my own ears, covering her hand with mine. "Let me cook breakfast for you, at least. Stay a little while longer."

"I have work and so do you, Jumin. Let's meet up before my show at least once, okay? You owe me a nothing date." She leans across my bed to kiss me again but I can't help the frown on my face as she gets up to pull her shoes on, grabbing her bag and tossing it over her shoulder.

"Don't look so mopey," she laughs as she stands in the doorway. "CEOs don't pout." She waves and makes her exit, leaving me naked and alone in my bed. I wait to hear the elevator descend before getting up, taking a deep breath as I made my way at a begrudgingly slow pace to the shower. Once I get out I walk into my closet to see a set of clothes neatly laid out on the dresser. A deep maroon button up and a black and white striped tie laid folded on top of a pair of black slacks, and a pair of gray suede shoes sat beside it all. I stood awestruck in just a towel for a long moment, that this fantasy I didn't know I had been dreaming of had come true. Next to the clothes was a small note on the stationary pad I kept in every room; on it were the words 'Thank you for having me. I hope this suits you. Xx, (y/n)'.

I run and grab my phone off my nightstand, snapping a picture and sending it to the messenger before getting dressed in the clothes she laid out for me. My heart is soaring and I've never felt so good in an outfit before; I never thought I'd be the type of man to feel this way. I open my phone again once I'm dressed, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed while I wait for Kim to drive me to the office. I check the messenger, feeling a little smug about the picture I sent.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

ZEN: What the hell is that a picture of? It's kind of blurry.

Jumin Han: (Y/n) laid out clothes for me before she left this morning. She's perfect.

ZEN: Are you serious?! Did she stay the night or something?!

Jumin Han: Yes.

707: you're a lucky guy jumin she sure is pretty!!!

ZEN: Seriously?! Life isn't fair

Jaehee Kang: I sincerely hope you are on your way to the office, Mr. Han. I don't care if the woman I saw last night stayed over; there's too much to get done this week for you to be love struck.

ZEN: Jaehee has seen her too now? Is she really that pretty?!

Jumin Han: She's gorgeous. And I'm waiting for Driver Kim as we speak, Assistant Kang.

ZEN: Ew. It's gross when you get all mushy over a girl. Don't say things like that.

V has entered the chatroom.

V: Hello everyone.

707: V?!?!?! what brings u here on such short notice

Jaehee Kang: It is unusual for you to drop in the messenger unannounced, V. I hope everything is okay.

V: Everything is fine. I came to ask Jumin something but it's appropriate to ask the rest of you while you're all here.

ZEN: Yoosung isn't here.

V: That's alright, he'll see the messages later. Jumin, I can assume you're attending (y/n)'s gallery, right?

Jumin Han: We'll see. The company has been busy these past few weeks and it's hard to get a whole night off.

V: I'm sure your father would be happy to give you the time off if it's for her.

ZEN: Why did you come to talk about this with all of us here?

V: It's a good idea for the RFA to attend things like this now and then, especially since it's for a friend. We need to continue growing our connections if we hope to have another large scale party this year.

Yoosung has entered the chatroom.

707: yoosung is here!! we're all gonna meet jumin's gf

Yoosung: no way!!!! I can't believe she laid his clothes out and everything !!!

Jumin Han: Kim is here. I better get going.

V: Don't try to avoid the gallery when you know you're capable of attending, Jumin. I know (y/n) really wants you there.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

I got in the car and turned my phone on silent, aggravated that everybody was pushing me to attend the gallery when I clearly wanted to, it was just a matter of logistics if I actually could. I was aware that my father would most likely send me off with a marching band if he knew it was for a woman, and I knew it meant a lot to her, but I didn't want to sacrifice my work for the sake of a show she'd probably hold again in a few months.

I buried myself in my work once I arrived at the office, locking the door and grinding forward until I heard a knock. I looked up at the clock and it was nearly two in the afternoon, the entire morning passing by in a flash. I crossed the room and opened the door to find Jaehee holding a small paper bag and a cup of coffee, her expression soft.

"I figured you should at least eat something if you're going to lock yourself away in here," she passes me and sits herself in the chair across from my own, pulling a sugary muffin out of the paper bag. I sat back down and followed suit, the smell of the pastry undeniably delightful. I took a bite and eyed Jaehee carefully; she usually didn't stay in my presence longer than necessary.

"Mr. Han, may I ask you a personal question?"

"I suppose." I look up from my muffin at her, her expression thoughtful.

"I obviously don't know much about the woman you've been seeing recently, but I can tell that you're much happier, albeit slightly less productive in my opinion. Why are you so reluctant to attend her gallery, when you know your father will allow it and even V is insisting on behalf of the R.F.A.? It doesn't make sense." She catches me in her stern stare, waiting for a response. I match her gaze for a moment, unsure of how to answer.

"I'm not reluctant to go," I argued. "I'm tired of trying to convince people that I want to go. I don't care if no one believes me anymore."

She rolls her eyes at me, picking her coffee up off of my desk and tossing the paper bag in the small waste bin next to my desk.

"There's a director's meeting today at four. Please be prepared." She mumbles as she shuts the door behind her. I hold my head in my hands, frustrated with myself more than anyone else. I knew exactly why I was desperately searching for an excuse not to attend (y/n)'s gallery: commitment. It terrified me to imagine her and I in such a public setting, photos being taken and printed and posted without our permission; she deserved better. I refused to be the star of her show, and despite knowing she would never see it that way, I always would. On top of it all I was simply being selfish- I was too much of a coward to be seen in public, in front of my friends and colleagues, with her. I couldn't let myself go like I do with (y/n) in front of all those people and I'd rather disappoint her than hide the side of me she loves the most.

The day passed, and so did the next, and the next. Saturday turned into a short visit to the office, since almost everyone took the weekend off after working like madmen for the past five days. I spent the drive back to the penthouse building up my courage to call (y/n) myself, but when I pulled my phone out of my pocket her name lit up the screen, as if she knew I was about to call.

"Hello, (y/n)," I answered, guilt sitting itself comfortably on my chest as I guessed what she wanted to talk about.

"Hey," she greeted me, her voice cheerful. "Are you working? You wanna come help me pick out a dress for my show?"

"Seriously?" I laughed, surprised by her invitation. "You want me to come with you to pick out a dress? I can't even pick out my own tie in the morning."

"I don't know," she giggles. "I thought it would be fun. Is it a yes or a no?"

"Of course," I smile, walking into my closet to change out of my suit. "Do you want me to come pick you up?"

"You mean have your driver come pick me up?" She teases. I flip through the many hangers, finding it difficult to pick out anything suitable. "Sure thing. Be here soon, I'm already ready."

"No problem," I reply, while having a very big problem trying to pull up a pair of jeans and holding the phone to my ear at the same time. "I'll be there soon." She gives me a little laugh before hanging up, leaving me to pull up my pants properly. I was cold in just a t-shirt so I pluck a black sweater off a hanger, satisfied when I look at myself in the mirror. The weather was mild for nearly February so I left my coat on the hook as I made my way to the lobby where Kim waited for me.

Once I rang the doorbell to (y/n)'s house, she immediately opened the door before the chime had even finished.

"I hope you weren't waiting at the door for me," I chuckled, tempted to steal a kiss but holding myself back.

"Maybe I was," she smiled, eyes glittering up at me. I find myself completely captured by her from head to toe, and I can't help myself from pulling her in close to me before she shuts the door behind her. She hesitates before wrapping her arms around me in return, resting her head on my shoulder for a moment. I hook my arm around hers as we walk towards the car and my own affection surprises me. I open the car door and sit down beside her, my every nerve reaching out to touch her, desperate for physical contact. I keep my composure though, resting my hands in my lap.

"This is my driver, Kim," I say as we pull out of her driveway. "Kim, this is (y/n)." The word girlfriend nearly slips out but thankfully I stop myself before embarrassing everyone in the car.

"Nice to properly meet you, (y/n)," Kim smiles at her through the rear view mirror. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" She grins at him then turns to give me a teasing expression. I turn my head out the window to hide how flushed I was, unable to avoid the embarrassment I'd hoped to. "Well, I hope what you heard is good."

"Nothing short of perfect, in Mr. Han's words," he chuckles, causing me to go from flushed to on fire. "Anyways, where are we headed today?"

She gives him the name of the store she wants to go to, then turns her body towards me, placing a gentle hand on my lap. I glance over and her face is painted serene, her smile as carefree as the wind in mid June, her lips pink like the throws of a sunset. I'm paralyzed where I'm sat, unable to even stutter out a sentence.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me," she says, her voice quiet. "It means a lot."

"It's my pleasure," I breathe, enchanted.

A short ride later we arrive at the boutique she mentioned to Kim, a small shop packed with an endless selection of gowns. He drops us off and I follow her inside, my hands cemented in my pockets now that we're out in public. She tells the receptionist her name and we're let inside, where a woman sweeps (y/n) away to measure her every curve and angle, leaving me standing uncomfortably alone. When they return (y/n) is wearing her discomfort clearly on her face, almost looking scared as the woman shoves dresses at her, 'Do you like this one?' 'This one definitely suits you,' and 'What do you think, boyfriend?'.

I find myself getting angry with the woman as she continues to pull (y/n) back and forth between the floor and the dressing room, lacing her up in gown after gown despite (y/n) clearly not being interested in the whole experience.

"Can we have a minute alone?" I suddenly say as she comes out in the fifth dress that she clearly wants to rip off her body, my voice taking over the room. The consultant rolls her eyes at me and gives (y/n) a comforting look, as if I was the one making a scene. She exits the waiting room where she had been showing off the dresses and once we're alone (y/n) lets out a long breath, sitting down on one of the long, white benches next to me.

"Thank you," she sighs, looking overwhelmed. She's clad in a tight red halter dress, her arms covered in goosebumps. "I know it's her job but God, that was just too much."

"It's okay," I reply, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. "Go pick out whatever you like. She'll leave us alone now."

"I hope so," she laughs as she stands, barely able to shimmy over to the racks of dresses. She looks over her shoulder at me and starts laughing, waddling back to the changing room. "I think I'll change first."

She eventually picks out a few dresses, trying them on and coming back out for me to see. She's gorgeous in every one of them, but her expression tells me she feels otherwise. I stand and look through the racks absentmindedly as she changes into another gown, when I see a long, black dress that I can't help but imagine her in. The collar and arms are sheer lace, the flowery pattern reminding me of her paintings. The rest flows down to the floor, elegant as she is. I tug on the curtain that covers the changing room; she opens it a sliver and pokes her head out.

"Try this on," I hand the hanger to her; her eyes narrow doubtfully. "Just for me. I just want to see you in it."

She closes the curtain and emerges a few moments later. She's more stunning than I imagined her when I pulled the dress off the rack; I love the way her skin peeks through the lace on her neck and arms, how she's perfectly silhouetted by the black, silky fabric.

"Beautiful," I smile up at where she stands, her eyes glazed over. Her lower lip is trembling and her hands are balled into white knuckled fists, her eyes glued to the floor.

"What's wrong? Is it that bad?" I stand from the bench and place my hands on her shoulders, but she takes a small step away from me instead.

"I love it," her voice cracks, big, crocodile tears falling down her cheeks. "I love it. I've never felt so pretty before."

"What's wrong then?" I ask, panicked.

She sobs loudly, covering her mouth with a single hand. Her glittering eyes are no longer in the boutique but much farther off, another universe or another time. It takes her an impossibly long moment to speak again, her voice a strangled moan.

"I miss my mom and dad," she squeezes her eyes shut tight, her tears falling onto the dress. "I wish they were here, Jumin."

"(Y/n)..." I'm at a loss for words and I'm terrified to reach out and touch her even though I know it's what she needs now more than anything, feeling like a coward.

"Th-they should be here right now," she chokes out, her sobs loud despite her hand over her mouth.

"I just keep thinking of what it would be like if they were here. My dad-" she lets out a half sob, half giggle. "My dad would have picked this exact dress, and my mom... my mom would've wanted me in something brighter. She always thought I wore too much black."

She's bawling her eyes out now, her sobs filling the room and every crevice of my heart. In a single moment I wrap my arms around her shaking body and she brings us down to our knees, her tears soaking my shoulder. I squeeze her close to me, my heart pounding in my chest as I buried my head into the crook of her neck, the lace of the dress tickling my cheek.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice broken. We're quiet for a while, the only sound her sniffling, a choked out sob every now and then. I pull away and feel a wetness on my own cheeks, raising my hand to feel the chill of tears on my skin.

"Jumin..." she breathes in, cupping my face with her shaking hand and wiping away a tear with her thumb.

"I know how you feel," I whisper, the words foreign on my tongue. A small sound escapes from my throat and I bite on my lip to stop it, my heart overwhelmed. I'm now covering my own mouth with my hand, the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks as I'm holding my breath. She gently pulls my hand away, the powers of a religious healer behind her touch as she purses her lips against my cold tears, a kiss with all the forces of God upon my skin. I allow a sob to fall from my lips, twenty years of repression not just bubbling to the surface but erupting; and here she was amidst the destruction, kissing away my tears and telling me it was okay to cry.

"Why-" I choke out, scared to say the words that buried themselves deep within my heart.

"It's okay," she caresses my cheek. "It's okay, Jumin."

"Why wasn't I enough for her?" The sound is guttural as it hits my ears, sending another wave of sobs through me. I bury my head in the crook of her neck, trying not to ruin her dress. She holds me closer though, her hands running up and down my back. It brings back the memory of my mother doing the same exact thing to me as a boy when I'd lose my temper and cry until I got my way; I cried at the image of her face in my mind, which had become blurry and unsure over time.

"Why do I miss her?"

"It's okay that you love her still," she whispers into my ear, her voice gentle. "Whatever you're feeling right now is okay. You're allowed to hurt still."

"I loved her," I sobbed, looking into (y/n)'s eyes. "I love my mother, (y/n). I- I hate that I've gone twenty years burying her in my heart over and over and over when I already did it once."

She squeezes me tight, a long moment that I felt deep in my chest.

"I know how you feel," she says softly. "Our pain is the same. I know how you feel better than anyone else."

"How do you let yourself feel all of this without losing it?" I ask her, holding her hands in mine. "I've never felt so much at once in my entire life. It hurts."

"It's supposed to," she gives a half hearted laugh, wiping away her own tears. "I can't tell you if it ever stops hurting. It hasn't for me."

"I don't understand," I chuckle, holding my head in my hands. "How are we ever supposed to heal? How could they leave us with these gaping wounds and expect us to continue on?"

"After my mom died, my dad would always say that it takes more than time to heal the wounds. He told me it takes patience and love, and more than anything it takes strength... I guess he wasn't strong enough though."

She's sobbing in my arms again when the consultant walks in on us, tear stained cheeks as we look up at her from where we were heaped together on the ground.

"She'll take this one," I deadpanned, earning a snort from (y/n). We help each other up off the ground and while we're standing face to face, I feel my heart skip a beat looking into her eyes. I'm unable to articulate how I feel, her gaze seeing the words hanging on the tip of my tongue. Something in the way she's unearthed my secrets that I've spent a lifetime hiding brings the words out of me, strong and sure all at once.

"I love you, (y/n)," I speak, oblivious to the consultant tapping her foot as she waits to take the dress off of (y/n). "I love you."

"I've always loved you, Jumin," she says. "I never doubted you felt the same."


	9. 09

The days pass, light grey and drizzly. Thursday arrives though, clouds having made way for the sun to gently kiss through my windows, waking me up before my alarm. It's a calm morning, brewing coffee and changing shirts twice before even calling Kim.

I hadn't spoken to (y/n) since the day after we'd picked her dress; she'd put herself into complete isolation, saying she needed to be completely free from distraction until her gallery. I chalked it up to a bizarre albeit charming 'artist' thing and let her be, preparing myself to be seen with her in public. Our day out hadn't gone unnoticed though; plenty of articles had sprung up with photos of her and I in a heap on the boutique floor, courtesy of the snake-like attendant I'd failed to notice during our breakdown. Jaehee insisted on making some sort of statement but I decided any publicity was good publicity and if anything, the rumors would draw more people to her show.

I walk into the office a bit after nine, a quiet atmosphere making me breathe easy. There's hardly any paperwork waiting for me at my desk when I sit down, and before Jaehee enters I'm almost suspicious of how smooth today seems to be going.

"Good morning, Mr. Han," she walks in, closing the door behind her. "You seem to be in a good mood today."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have a look about you," she smirks the tiniest bit. "Are you ready for (y/n)'s gallery tonight? It seems like it's going to be a very high-profile event."

"It does, doesn't it? I knew she was very well-known since she's done shows internationally, but it's hard to imagine just how many people will be there." I glance down at my phone and see a text message, shifting it away from me for the moment.

"It's you and (y/n)'s first official appearance, you know," She adds quietly, looking down.

"I know. It's going to be good." I smile to myself for a moment; (y/n) convinced me to match my suit to her dress, and as much as I may have protested I secretly couldn't wait to be seen with her.

"Now I know the world has turned upside down. Jumin Han is blushing to himself over his girlfriend," Jaehee scoffs, rolling her eyes as she lets herself out. "Don't forget you have a conference call at eleven today. I know you're on cloud nine but there is still some work to do."

I nod, slightly embarrassed as she leaves. I look back down at my phone and see the text is from my father, which is unusual because if he needed something from me he would simply come to the office, or just pass the message on through Jaehee. It's short and simple: Please call me when you can. It's an ominous and anxiety inducing message, my fingers shaking a bit as I clicked call. I'm brought to his voicemail, my heart dropping into my stomach as I sat there quietly before hanging up. Every nerve tells me to go to his house, to make sure he's okay, but I decide to stay put and wait for him to return my call.

The conference call is long and boring, most of it spent on mute as everybody else droned on about company initiatives and a change in hiring policies, and what colors are suitable to wear when meeting new clients. Once the call is over I'm left in limbo; I could go home and get ready for the gallery then wait six hours, or I could wait for my father's call here. As I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee my cell phone buzzes in my pocket.

"Father," I answer, heart stopped in my chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Jumin? Yes, everything's fine. Did you think something was wrong?" My father's voice on the other line is business as usual, the adrenaline slowly but surely leaving my body, relief replacing it.

"It's unusual for you to ask me to call you without an explanation. I guess I expected the worst."

"We're okay, son," I hear a woman's voice in the background, with some muted electronic buzzing and beeping. "Katy and I were out and she slipped on some ice and hurt her ankle. The doctor is still examining the X-rays, but she's in good spirits."

"Katy? Who's that?" I ask, confused.

"You met Katy when you came over on Christmas, Jumin. You don't remember?" He sounds almost hurt in his reply.

"Oh, her. Yes," I remember the way she folded so nicely into my father's arm on the couch that day, their closeness strange to me. "I'm glad she's okay. Did you need something?" I'm ready to pack up now that the looming danger is gone, even though there isn't much to do until the gallery. I want to be completely prepared, and I'm hoping (y/n) will break her silence to speak with me before we're surrounded by wolves.

"Actually, yes. I'll be tied up here for a bit, but I'm supposed to have lunch with the CEO of the company we signed off the partnership with last week. I need you to go in my place."

"No problem," I begin to pack up my things, a little relieved at my father's request since it's something to do in between waiting to go see (y/n). "Where am I meeting him?"

"It's not near the office," he says. "You'll be having lunch a few towns over; I'll send you the exact address. It's about a two hour drive, I believe."

"Two hours?" I repeat in shock. Two hours both ways, I hoped. "You mean two hours here and back, right?"

"No," he says matter-of-factly. "Two hours there and two hours back. It's a bit of a drive but it's important we keep a very good relationship with this family now that they've signed with us."

I curse myself for not getting all the details before agreeing, saying goodbye to my father so I could get a move on with this meeting. Knowing these corporate lunches, it'll be more than a soup and a salad before I can say farewell, and as I wave goodbye to Jaehee worry sits heavy on my chest. The backseat of Kim's car is lonely as I sit trapped in my own thoughts, knowing I'd be up against the clock to make it to (y/n)'s show on time.

-

Six o'clock. Six o'clock sharp I was supposed to be holding (y/n) on my arm, matching all black outfits as she showcased her best gallery yet. But now it's six thirty-one and I'm sat on the edge of my bed, hesitant to button up my vest despite the countless missed calls piling up in my phone. I arrived home over half an hour ago and as I began to put on my clothes that we'd already laid out days before, something inside of me came to a halt. Every fear that I'd tried to bury in the back of my head suddenly demanded to be felt violently, no room for logic or reason.

So I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing the buttons of my vest absentmindedly as I stared off into another universe, when a cold wetness dripping onto my thigh pulled me back to reality. I raise my hand to my cheek and I'm crying, the sensation strange without (y/n) here to tell me it's okay. I stand up and finish putting myself together, the tears still easily flowing as I get into the car and tell Kim the address. It's not a long drive but for some reason I wait in the car for a long time, quietly crying to myself while Kim tries to snap me out of it. I hear "Mr. Han?" about a thousand times but all it takes is a knock on my window to pull me away from my thoughts. I look up and it's V, talking to Kim through the front passenger window. I open my door and let myself out, furiously rubbing tears from my eyes before looking directly at V.

"Jumin," he breathes, taking off his sunglasses and looking at me closely. "Where were you? Everyone was calling you."

"I had to help my dad with something," my voice is half-whimper, half-sob, trying to cover it up with a loud cough. I try to push past V into the venue but he blocks me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"You're not going in like this, Jumin. This is (y/n)'s night and she isn't here to work out whatever it is you're going through," he speaks, his voice firm. "You've already made a scene by not showing up and she won't let on, but you've really hurt her."

"Are you kidding me, V?" I scowl, emptiness being filled with a bubbling anger. "I'm fine, okay? I want to go in, so move."

"Jumin, look at yourself!" He's practically pleading me, looking exasperated as he points to the car. I turn to see my reflection in the tinted windows and he's right; I can't go in like this. My tie is crooked, my hair a mess from running my hands through it, my cheeks tear-stained and one of my buttons is undone on my shirt. Beyond looking the part of a midlife crisis, I know I'm exuding absolute self loathing and anger, which (y/n) wouldn't be able to miss. I take a deep breath and look up at the starless sky, exhaling slowly.

"Here," V takes out a tissue and ask Kim for a bottle of water. He drips some of it onto the tissue and hands it to me; I look down at it, clueless.

"Put it against your eyes so it doesn't look like you were crying. Here's another one to blow your nose," he pulls out another one from his pocket and I curiously wonder why V carries around tissues with him. "Forget about whatever actually made you so late and go enjoy the gallery. It really is breathtaking."

"I'm not that late," I grumble as we make our way inside.

"It's eight o'clock now, Jumin," V says, my heart dropping at how much time I spent unable to get out of my own damn head. Two men open the doors for us, leading into a short, pitch black corridor. A curtain opens into a big, open space, and once the cameras stop flashing I'm able to see just what V was talking about.

The walls are bright white; everywhere I look there are life size sculptures of couples dancing, colorful and full of emotion as I weave through them. I approach one of them, two little girls holding hands like they're spinning in a circle. As I lean forward I see they're not wax, but stone, perfectly carved and sculpted as if they were real life people. I step back with V and I truly am breathless as I see all the couples dancing, all of them full of so much life it's a bit startling.

"There's more, believe it or not," V says, motioning me to follow him. We walk into a smaller room, with a bunch of long tables lining the walls. Dozens of books are displayed, people flipping through them curiously. As I get closer I see they're all of (y/n)'s sketchbooks, the one I'm flipping through dated over ten years ago. I proceed through the line of people, V close behind me.

"Look at this one," he chuckles, showing me a sketch of him, only his hair colored in with a thick turquoise marker. "This is from one of the first times we met. I never even knew she did this."

As we approach the last few sketchbooks I see the woman in front of me do a double take between myself and the pages in her hands, her eyebrows creasing together. Once she exits I grab the book and see pages filled up with drawings of me; my cheeks burn as I gently flip through the book, V appearing over my shoulder. A part of me almost slams the cover shut, but I know that hundreds of people have already seen these drawings of me. I'm unable to form a coherent sentence as I continue to gaze down at the pages, V giggling in my ear.

"We all saw this earlier," he laughs. "How do you feel?"

"I want to be embarrassed but I really just feel... I don't know," I say, placing the sketchbook back down on the table. "It's strange that she shares something so valuable with the whole world. I'd want to keep all of this beauty for myself."

He gives me a warm look as I flick my eyes up to his, feeling the anticipation of what could possibly be next.

"Why don't we go see the star of the show?" He smiles, leading us out of the room. I want to spend the rest of my life flipping through the pages, wondering what every line and curve could possibly mean. I follow behind though, ducking through a soft pink curtain into a smaller room. The walls are a softer white, the lights calm, almost like the sun was filtering through somehow. I look up and see seven paintings hung at eye level, two each on the left and right walls and three in front of me. Before I can properly look at the paintings though, a long, black dress catches my eyes.

She stops her conversation when our eyes meet, her glossy lips opening the slightest. She holds up a polite hand to the people she's speaking with, crossing the room to meet me. When we're face to face I feel everybody's eyes on us, but her's are locked on mine; it's a seemingly long few moments, silence spreading across the room as more people entered, watching us.

"You're late," she says quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry." I want to reach out and close the distance between us but she's nearly statuesque in front of me, like the figures she sculpted in the other room. It feels like a taboo to put my hands on something so precious, like touching the art.

"But you're here."

"I am."

"You're here," her head turns and she finally smiles, tears glazing over her eyes. They sparkle in the light of the room, and I can't help but frame her face with my hands, a masterpiece. "You're here."

"Don't cry," I lean close and press my forehead to hers. "Don't cry. You are so breathtaking, (y/n), so don't cry. I'm sorry I wasn't here but now isn't the time to try and explain. This is your night and you deserve everybody's eyes glued on you like they are now."

"They're looking at both of us," she laughs, cradling my face in her hands.

"I promise that it's just you they're waiting for," I smile, pulling away. She looks around the room, the space packed with people, jaws dropped, expectant. She looks just as awestruck, though, her lips parted a bit as her eyes make their way back to me.

"Come on," she takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd and out of the room. "You're the final piece."

I follow her as she starts running through the countless people, pushing past them through all the rooms, camera flashes and shouts following us every step. We enter the room with the dancing sculptures and as people form a circle around us she places a hand on my shoulder, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers with the other. My free hand falls on her hip, all eyes on us as her eyes quite literally sparkle up at me as she takes the first step, leading me through a dance to the murmurs and clicks of the crowd.

We keep in perfect step, dancing and twirling among all the figures together, the real people moving out of our way when we approached. Even though there was no music playing I felt something connecting us, and as we danced faster and faster I found myself letting go of every gnawing thought, not caring about all the photographs and articles and lies, no longer hiding my smile. She grabs my other hand and we begin to spin around, the pretend music only we can hear picking up even more.

"You're smiling!" She shouts over the crowd who'd began chanting and yelling, the camera's flashing reaching a crescendo.

"I know!" I laugh, pulling her in close to me and lifting her off of the ground, spinning her in the air as people gasped and screamed.

"I love you!" I yell over all the noise, bringing her back down and holding her in my arms, just one of her feet touching the ground. She's breathing heavily through her huge smile, tears pricking both of our eyes.

"I never doubted it," she whispers, placing her hand on the back of my neck and pulling me down for a kiss. If the people surrounding us didn't have enough to talk about, they certainly did now. We're surrounded by strangers and friends who've now seen me at my most vulnerable, tears in my eyes as I struggle to suppress giggles spilling from my lips. The best part is I'm not worried about it; I don't care if I'm not the cold corporate heir I've been painted to be, because I like the way (y/n) has painted me much better.


	10. 10

"Just keep walking- sorry," I guide her away from the wall I accidentally bumped her into, my hands gentle on her shoulders as we walk through my summer home, the breeze coming in from the coast through the open windows. "Almost there."

"We better be," she laughs, bumping into another corner. "Can I take off the blindfold yet?"

"Not yet," We enter the living room, tall walls with wide windows, a perfect view of the seashore. It's in pristine condition despite the fact I haven't visited this property probably since I bought it; I thank myself for remembering to send maids to clean up before (y/n) and I arrived.

"Alright, stay here. Don't take the blindfold off yet." I leave her in the center of the room, running to the wall opposite of the windows. I pull down a long line of sheets hung on the wall, gathering them on my arm, the sound loud in the quiet house.

"What are you-" She takes off her blindfold and I tug the final sheet down, revealing a series of seven paintings displayed on the wall. She covers her mouth with her hands, looking up at me with disbelief.

"You didn't," she gasps, looking up at the paintings in awe.

"I did." I smile, standing next to her and admiring them.

"No," she breathes, a little teary-eyed as I look over at her. "How?"

"I planned on buying them at your show, but they were all sold to different people by the time I got there," I rested my hand at her hip, pulling her a bit closer. "They didn't belong apart, right?"

"No," she wipes the tears from her eyes, sniffling. "I didn't wanna sell them but I sort of got pressured into it. At first I refused to sell them separately but my manager ended up doing it anyway without telling me."

"I knew you wouldn't have sold them," I narrowed my eyes at her. "They're a part of your soul, you told me. They belong to you now, where they should have been the whole time. Take them wherever you wish."

"They're not just a part of me now, though," she giggles, leaning her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arm around me. "They're a part of you too. They're a part of our story that we'll tell our kids someday."

"Oh yeah?" I blushed as I looked up at the paintings to avoid eye contact with her, my heart skipping a beat.

"Yeah," she laughs. "I'll tell them how their father almost left me alone on the most important night of my career, but then came and saved the day. And then he went all across the globe to find the paintings he knew I loved so much."

"Across the globe?" I chuckle as she laughs into the crook of my neck, her hair brushing against my skin. "It was just a few phone calls. I made them all an offer they couldn't refuse."

"You're too much," she sighs, tightening her grip around my waist a bit. "I love you, Jumin. So much."

"I love you too, (y/n). So much."

We sit on one of the couches in the room, facing the ocean. The tide gently kisses the sand, the water clear here, far from the city. I place my hand in hers, squeezing her palm gently. The air is calm as it blows through the house, everything relaxed.

"I liked driving out here," I break the quiet, keeping my gaze on the water. She lets out a small laugh, the tiniest of shivers running through her.

"You did? It was a little scary for me." She teases.

"Sorry," I look down, remembering her white knuckled grip on my arm as we took the long drive down to the coast. "I'll get better on the way home."

"Uh, maybe I'll drive us home..." she smiles at me, her lips flushed pink, a little shiny from the chapstick she'd put on earlier. Her skin is warm from the sun, bathed in its light where we sit in front of the windows. I like how she's dressed today; a loose white button up shirt with long stripes, and little jean shorts that show off her legs nicely. A few pieces of jewelry adorn her but she looks so clean and refreshing, like the feeling when you pull your clothes out of the drier.

"So," I breathe, looking over to her. "How many future children do we plan on having?"

"I don't know," she answers, a shade of pink dusting her cheeks. "I actually haven't really thought about it before."

"You haven't?"

"You have?"

"Of course. I've known I wanted to be a father for a long time now." I reply, feeling a strange flutter of excitement at the thought.

"Wow," she breathes, her eyes drifting towards our locked hands. "I don't know. I think I'm still really young to be a mother... I still want to travel more, and we're both so busy with our jobs. We're not even married yet, either- Jesus, we don't even live together yet, Jumin. Plus, they would only have one grandparent, that's kind of sad-"

"Hey," I interrupt. "Relax. We're not having any children right now. It's okay."

Her eyes are wide and she lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, squeezing my hand tight.

"You're right," she sighs. "I mean, it's kind of fun to think about though. How many kids do you want someday?"

"Hm," I think for a moment. "Either just one or three. If we just had one it would be fun to spoil them. But if it was three we would have a good size family; just big enough, you know?"

"Yeah," she looks at me warmly, her expression gooey and sweet like honey.

"I'd like to have three kids too, because we could always be busy, going to all their different things. Plays and recitals and games, things like that. I've always liked the idea of being the parents that never miss any event or anything."

"How many girls and boys?" She asks, and when I look over her eyes are closed, a small smile on her lips.

"All girls."

"Really?" She snorts, her eyes opening. "You have trouble handling just this girl most of the time. How do you plan on handling three more?"

"With you right by my side."

-

The End


End file.
